In Which Sherlock is the Student
by Lo613
Summary: John, the new science teacher at St. Bards public school, is intrigued by troubled but brilliant student Sherlock Holmes. I suck at summerys the story is better. First fic. No slash. Please read and review. Rated T for self harm, drug use, and swearing.
1. Chapter 1

Hello! So this is my first story. I've already got fifteen chapters written and am currently working on the sixteenth. However! I am open to suggestions, just tell me what you would like to see and if it doesn't stray to far I will do my best! Disclaimer- I do not own Sherlock. Shame. If I did I'd mess it up so in retrospect that's probably a good thing. To the story! Pleases read and review!

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John Watson pulled into the school where he would be starting his new teaching career begining today. The school year had already been in session for a month and a half, but John was positive he could start late and still manage to teach his students everything that they would need to know in order to pass their standardized test. And maybe, John thought hopefully, a little more than that. Perhaps he could even get to be friend with a few of his students. As soon as the thought had crossed his mind he snorted. What was he thinking? He would be teaching year elevens for Gods sake! He would be lucky if he could earn a morsel of their respect and get over the material with them. He mentally sighed as he exited his car and began the short walk to the main office to get the last few things sorted out before his day began. Still, better to be optimistic, he told himself. Maybe the kids wouldn't be too bad. Perhaps they were respectful. He brightened a bit. He wasn't much older than the kids he would be teaching. At the young at of twenty-seven he was only twelve or thirteen years older than most of his students. He himself still remembered his own days of high school very clearly. That could, and hopefully would, come to use in dealing with pupils. He remembered the teachers that he had liked and disliked, and his exact reasons for all of his feelings towards them. He would try his best to be like the ones who he had admired; the ones who had let them sit where they wished, the ones who were fun and goofy but had still managed to jam pack their students heads full of knowledge, and the ones who had treated them, not like small children, but like the young, responsible members of society they were becoming. John smiled wryly to himself, I certainly have my work cut out for me, he thought as he entered the office. He walked himself over to the counter which had a secretary sitting behind it.

" Ah, hello, the names John Watson, I'm supposed to start teaching here today." he told her helpfully. The secretary smiled at him.

" Of course. I'll just call Mr. Swany in. He'll take you to your room and help you set up if you like. I'll get him, and you can sit over there if you want." She motioned to a row of four chairs that resided in the corner of the room, obviously there for children who got sent to the office. John started towards them but stopped suddenly and turned on his heel.

" Sorry, but I don't believe I caught your name?" He prompted.

" Alice." She replied.

" Nice to meet you, Alice." John said warmly. She nodded and grabbed for the phone to, John assumed, call for Swany. John strolled over to the corner and plopped into one of the chairs, leaning back against the hard plastic. He decided to check the time. Unlike most people John wore his watch on his left hand with the face of the watch on the inside of his wrist. He had never thought anything of it. Just a small quirk he had. The time was 6:02 meaning he still had another fifty-eight minutes before his first class of the day. He wondered for a moment how his students would behave. If any of them would be helpful. He decided not to ponder and simply wait to find out the answer to his question. Which worked out well because at that moment Swany entered he office. He looked around for a moment before his eyes rested on John.

" Hello. You must be Mr. Watson then, am I right?" he asked. John pulled himself out of his chair and stood next to Swany. He stuck out his arm for a hand shake to which Swany complied.

" Please, call me John."

Swany smiled. " Well in that case John, I must insist that you call me George." Swany said kindly.

" Whatever you say, George." the two broke the hand shake and walked outside into the crisp, morning air.

" So what are you teaching, John?" George asked after a moment of silence.

" Year eleven science." John replied.

" Good for you, good for you." George approved. John finally asked the question he had been thinking about earlier.

" I don't want to sound like I'm having any second thoughts," he started. " because I'm not. It's just... Are there any problem kids I'll be teaching?" he asked. George thought for a moment.

" Yes, there are a few." Swany confirmed. John felt his heart drop slightly at this. A few. How many was a few?

" Who are they?"

George hesitated before answering. " I've got him in my math class." Was what he settled on. John noticed that Swany said he. A boy then. And apparently only one. George continued. " I won't name names, but you'll figure it out soon enough. Just ignore him, it's what everyone does. Stay away from him." he advised. John gaped silently. The man was a teacher! He was supposed to care about students, not push them away like they didnt exist! The pair stopped walking and George unlocked the door.

" There you are then, your classroom. Go ahead get yourself prepared, you've still got forty minutes. I'll see you later, John." he gave a slight chuckle and walked away, presumably returning to whatever it what he had been doing before. John entered the room and flipped on a light switch to illuminate the darkness. There was a chalk board in the front of the classroom and a small desk about thirteen feet away from it. John assumed it was his. The rest of the room was filled with about thirty desk for students. John walked between the rows to examine their condition. They appeared to be fifteen to twenty years old and most of them had a fair amount of graffiti on them to show for their years of service. One desk however, caught his attention. It was the one in the very back right hand side corner of the room. Other desks graffiti consisted of a few things. An AJ+LM, a message or a vulgar drawing. This one was different. In permanent black marker someone had scrawled: 'SH is a freak'. The rest of the desk too, was riddled with variations of 'Freak' or 'SH is a freak'. John noted that the messages were written in many different styles. Different hand writing. That meant that many different people had inscribed the same words on the desk. Interesting. John wondered briefly who SH was. With how old the desks were he may not even go this school anymore. He rubbed the desk absent-mindedly with his hand. It occured to him that he should be double and triple checking his lesson plans for the day and constructing some idea of how he would introduce himself to his students. John returned to his desk at the front of the room, pulled some paper out of his pockets and let the next forty minutes be used to grasp an idea of how his day might go.

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Cookies for everyone who caught the Doctor Who reference I put in there! * hands out cookies * I will do my absolute best to update daily. Please review. I mean it. The review button is right there. Press the link. If you review one of my stories I will come to your page and read and review your stories. So. Constructive criticism and ideas are welcome. DFTBA!


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you to everyone who read, reviewed, made it a favorite, and followed the story! I've discovered something- reviews make me laugh. I'm not kidding. Reading reviews makes me so happy that I laugh this giddy happy laugh. It's a David Tennet laugh that's what it is. Thank you for making me look like an idiot who's laughing for no reason. , I weep for the nation of Germany. if you ever get the chance to watch Doctor Who take it. Disclaimer- I believe that if I owned Sherlock I would not be writing this on a website labeled fanfiction. To the story!**

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The forty minutes that John had seemed to be over in mere seconds, and before he knew it students were flocking into his classroom. After several minutes everyone had settled down, and he stepped forward to the front of the class, preparing to introduce himself.

" Hello, I will be your science teacher for the rest of the year," He started. John opened his mouth to say more but was cut off by a voce in the back of the room, obviously intended to be heard by everyone.

" Your name is John Watson, you are twenty seven years old. You've got an older brother- no wait, sister. Her name is Harriett. She was in a relationship but recently broke up. She left, not the other way around. Back to you, you graduated from Camford recently. Rather quickly as well, stayed on track and got more credits than required each year, enabling you to graduate a year early. You are single now but are hoping to change that. You could have never afforded to go to Camford on your own, and instead got a number of scholarships for your intellect. Also quite the accomplished rugby player, I see. While in University you were part of the ROTC. You are not an overly strict person. However you do have a good regard for the rules and do enforce them. This sense of yours was slightly heightened by ROTC I presume. You did not choose this job for the money. Rather you chose it because it genuinely appealed to you. You chose year eleven, filled with teenagers who tend to lack respect for authority. I suspect you chose high school because it was your favorite time in school. Only explanation, this is your first time ever teaching, you wouldn't chose this difficult of a group to control unless there was some outside influence." The kid who had been speaking stopped abruptly. For a moment there was absolute silence filing the room.

"FREAK!" Someone yelled out. Within seconds the entire room was yelling and jeering him. John stood for just a moment longer before taking action.

" Hey! HEY!" The room fell silent once more.

" Alright. Everybody quiet! And stay that way!" He commanded. His students complied. John walked over to the desk of the boy who had called out. He sat in the back at the desk with the many messages of 'freak'.

The first thing John noticed about the boy was how thin he was. He had on a pair of baggy dark blue jeans and a long sleeved black shirt. Both of these items hung loosely off his frame and fit very poorly on him overall. John moved away from his shockingly skinny appearance to take in other thinks about the boy. He had a mess of unruly black hair and high set cheek bones. His eyes were a dark steely blue. His skin was a rather pale white, giving off the impression that he didn't spend much time outside. The boy wasn't paying John any attention, instead preferring to trace on of the engravings on his desk absent-mindedly, as if he had not done anything remarkable in recreating Johns life without having ever met him before.

" Hey." John said sharply to get the boys attention. The student stopped running his fingers over the markings and looked up at John.

" What's your name then?" He asked.

The boy muttered something in reply so quietly that John couldnt make out what was being said. By this point John was intrigued. This boy bore no resemblence to the one he had just experienced. The previous one had spoken out in class, asking no ones opinion, having overwhelming confidence. The one in front of him now spoke so softly that John couldn't hear him, and didn't bother to make eye contact.

" What's that? Couldn't quite make it out." John prompted.

" Sherlock." Came the quiet reply.

" Full name now, come on."

Sherlock gave a sigh. " My name is Sherlock Holmes."

SH, thought John. He had suspected it over the last few minutes but now he was positive, the engravings on the desk were meant for the boy in front of him. Sherlock Holmes. He put aside his feelings of compassion for the time being, John needed to know some things.

" How did you know all of those things about me, Sherlock?" He asked clearly confused.

" He does it all the time!" A boy from across the room yelled. " Freak Holmes!"

Though Sherlock tried to his it, John saw the brief look of hurt flash across his features before returning to indifference once more. Johns question was met with silence.

" Come on Sherlock, tell me." John tried again. Once more there was no answer.

" Fine." John gave up and returned to the front of the room. He cleared his throat.

" My name is John Watson, I am twenty seven years old..."

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**So concludes chapter two. Short I know. I think the next few are just about a thousand words or less but after that I'm fairly sure that they're all at least 1500 or 2000 words plus. So ahead, press the review button, tell me what you think. Open to suggestions! I'll update tomorrow. Anyways please review, have a nice day/night/ whatever time of day it is in your time zone and DFTBA!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Another chapter, I belive that I will be able to post new chapters daily. Reviews made me D.T laugh again. Out of happiness. If you don't know what a D.T laugh is go to youtube and look up David Tennet giggle. I broke the replay button on the video. Thanks for all of the reviews! You guys are amazing! Disclaimer- In the 12 hours it's been since I've last updated this, I'm sorry to say that I have not yet gained the rights to Sherlock. **

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After the boy Sherlocks initial speaking up, he had remained silent the entire time. John introduced himself and then he had jumped in to the lesson he had planned for the day. He got through the lesson fine as the students paid attention for the most part, save one or two fits of laughter that occurred from a group of girls in the middle. However he couldn't help but keep looking up at Sherlock. The boy, he noticed, continued to trace the writing on his desk and did not take a single note during the entire lecture. At the end of the hour Sherlock had packed up his things and left the classroom in the back of the mob without another word to John. The next two classes passed without much event - One girl accused another of stealing her pen, but that was about as dramatic as things got- and before John knew it, it was time for lunch. John made his way to the cafeteria, taking his time and examining the school grounds as he went along. He arrived at his destination some ten minutes later, found the teachers lunch table among the many others, located George and plopped down next to turned towards John and smiled.

" Hey, John, how's your day going?" He asked happily.

" Fine." John replied. " Very well, actually. It's just..." he hesitated for a moment.

" Yes?" Prompted George.

John spoke slowly, choosing his words with care. " The boy you mentioned, the problem one. Sherlock Holmes..."

" Ignore him." George advised.

" He told me my life story within two minutes of entering my class. And he got every. Detail. Right." Said John to George.

Swany nodded. " Yeah. Did it to me too. First day of school. The kid just comes up and knows everything about you. Creeps me out. Just make a point to ignore him. Its what every teacher does. Makes life much simpler that way."

John nodded slowly. " Riiiggghhhhtt. Ignore him. I'll keep that in mind." He said, though he knew it was a lie. This was his first job in teaching, he couldn't get into the habit of ignoring things as if they didn't exist. Where would that lead him to in the future? He decided to dismiss the thought entirely. But all this talk about Sherlock had made the young teacher curious as to where said student was at. John turned from his table and scanned the cafeteria. It didn't take John terribly long to find him. Sherlock was sitting alone a table, alone. He didn't appear to have a lunch and instead was reading a thick book. The title was to small to read from where John was but it looked like a book of science and Sherlock was deeply immersed in it, seemingly oblivious to everything happening around him. John continued to look at Sherlock for a minute, pondering the scenario. He didn't have a lunch. John assumed that Sherlock must have already eaten it. After all, John himself had arrived ten minutes late to lunch and by this time, their lunch break was past half over. That's it, John thought to himself, he's already finished his lunch. Reassured, John turned back to the table and continues his conversation with George, enjoying the rest of his break before returning to the classroom.

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**AHRRRGG! This chapter is so short! It's really the only good stopping place though so I haven't got much choice... Rest assured though because the next chapter is almost over two and a half times longer than this one.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello Internet reader! Here is the new chapter. Obviously. John focused still but not for long! Disclaimer- I don't own Sherlock. I know, amazing isn't it? Enjoy!**

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" -And that concludes the lesson." John finished. It was the last period of the day and school was out in two minutes, making his students distracted and talkative.

" Any questions?" He asked, though he already knew what the out come would be. Not a single hand raised in response to his question.

" All right. You're dismissed. Have a good day!" He raised his voice slightly at this last part as his students had raced towards the door, creating an awful lot of noise. The last student exited the room with their group of friends and John returned to his desk. He allowed himself to sit for a moment before forcing himself to get up and gather the few things he had brought to work that day. As he exited the room and locked the door behind him he gave a mental overview of how his day had gone. John thought that he had made a good impression on his students. He hadn't been given much hassle and it felt like he got on with them pretty well in general. The new teacher entered the main office and give his attendance records to the secretary. At the moment Alice was preoccupied with another job so John waited by the desk patiently, lazily flipping through his papers. As he did his eyes kept being draw to one name: Sherlock Holmes. The kid was a mystery to him. John didn't know how Sherlock had known all those things about him, but he was desperate to find out. He shook his head at his own foolishness. Sherlock hadn't done anything special, he had probably heard staff mention his name, and talking about him in general. Then, John rationalized, he had gone home and looked him up, curious as to who this newcomer was. After all, you could find anything on the Internet if you knew how to use it properly. That was all he had done, the kid had just wanted some attention. It had been a one time thing and that would be the last time it ever happened. John ran his conclusion through his mind one more time, checking for holes in his theory before nodding firmly to himself. Shortly after this, a few seconds at the most, the secretary reappeared at her computer .

" Hello, Alice, can I just drop off my attendance papers here?" He asked. She gave a nod of conformation and John handed her the papers. " Have a nice rest of your day then!" He told her cheerily as he made his way out the door, heading for his car. He opened the car door, put the keys in the ignition, put the car in gear, and began his drive home.

A short time later John arrived at the flat he and his flatmate, Sarah, shared. He walked into the flat, placing his keys in his pockets. Hearing Johns familiar footsteps, Sarah came around from the room she had been in.

" John! How was your day? Did you get there on time? Were the students nice? What did you teach-"

John cut her off with a laugh and a wave of his hand.

" My day was good. Great in fact! I got there in time, an hour early even. The students were nice, good, yes." He decided not to mention Sherlock. " I got through the material I had planned for the day. You know, just a few things. I'll have a test later, see what I need to teach them. How was your day, Sarah?" He asked as he sat down on the sofa with her.

" Oh fine." She told him dismissively. " Went to work, came back. You know what though?" She asked.

John was suddenly excited. " What?"

" I got us take out Chinese." Sarah told him. John eyes widened and he punched the air.

" Yes!" He exclaimed as he raced to the table, smelling the intoxicating scent of his favorite food. He saw it on the dinner table and let out a small whoop. Sarah walked into the dining room/kitchen, smiling at the reaction she had managed to get out of her friend. She took a seat while John got them both forks to eat with. He handed Sarah her utensil and they each broke into their respective containers. The two finished some time later and John leaned back in his chair, letting out a contented breath.

" Thanks Sarah. It was great, I've got a little bit of work to do but then I'm free for the rest of the night. That okay?" Asked John.

" Yeah that's fine. I'll finish up a few things, I've got a load of my laundry to do, and then we can hang out for a while." Replied Sarah.

John stood up from the table, recycled his now empty container, and retreated to his room to work. After a moment Sarah did the same and went off to do what she needed to do while John finished what work he had.

A little over a half hour later John emerged from his room, looking pleased that he had the rest of the night to himself. He wandered through the flat, searching for Sarah, and found he after poking his head in a few doors. Together the pair agreed to watch a movie, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. It was a favorite to both of them and after watching the entire thing (The entire thing, with added scenes and interviews.) it was well past 10 o'clock. They bade each other good night and retired to their beds.

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**Okay. I lied. This chapter was really only one and a half times longer than the last one. * hangs head * My test was not accurate. The next chapter will be a Sherlock chapter, about a bit of his home life and such things. Mycroft is sort of but not really introduced. More along the lines of mentioned. In response to Marie I was planning on having Moriaty, Anderson, Molly, Sally and probably some other people I've forgotten show up. Tell me if you have any specific request for characters or plot lines. I've got a good bit of this written but new ideas are always great for the mind! Thanks for reading and- you know what, I'm not even going to say it. You guys are always awesome! Have a great day!**


	5. Chapter 5

**The new chapter as promised. Like I said, it's finally Sherlock time. Warning this chapter contains cutting. Disclaimer- I. Don't. Own. Sherlock. Stop reminding me.**

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After school, Sherlock began his daily walk home. It ended some forty minutes later as he let himself into the small flat that he and his brother Mycroft, aged twenty two, shared. Sherlocks parents had died years ago, leaving Mycroft Sherlocks legal guardian. Sherlock entered the flat, noting that Mycroft wasn't there. Not that this was surprising; Mycroft was almost never at the flat, instead he was usually out, doing God knows what. Sherlock didn't mind that he was alone. In fact he liked it. He wasn't a person who talked to others, even if the other person should happen to be his own brother. Sherlock entered his room and closed the door with force. His mind raced over the events of the day. The way he had deduced the new teacher John Watson. Sherlock grew angry with himself. Why had he done that?! Again?! Why couldn't he have just kept his mouth shut like he did most of the time?! The other kids at his school were right. Why was he such a freak? A sob racked through his body as he set his backpack down on his bed before reaching underneath it to grab his box of razors. He took them back to the top of his bed where he sat as he rolled up the long sleeves of his black shirt, revealing dozens of fresh cuts from the last day and dozens more scars from the past. Another sob worked its way out of Sherlock before he drew the blade across the inside of his arm, watching in fascination as crimson blood leaked from the cut. Suddenly Sherlock was drawing the blade across his arm three, four, five times in a row before stopping to examine his work. Maybe, he thought, if I do this enough it'll stop. I can be normal. If I punish myself enough I won't be such a freak. Fueled by this though t Sherlock continued, feeling the blade slice through his skin and reach into the muscle of his arm, drawing obscene amounts of blood. Soon his entire arm was covered in the substance, the liquid refusing to stop pouring out. Sherlock watched once more and a smile creeped onto his face. Finally satisfied with what he'd done and feeling quite a bit more light headed, Sherlock wrapped a piece of cloth around his arm to slow the bleeding some, hides the razors back underneath his bed, and returns to his experiments he has set up until the next day.

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**That...****Was a truly pathetic excuse for a chapter. I apologize. However! I assure that in the next couple of chapters they get back up to about a thousand words. And chapter 13 and 15 are probably more than two thousand. So hold in there. A new segment of the story will be up tomorrow, I got it typed last night. Please review! Pretty please! I will beg twice! I love reviews! Have a great day! DFTBA!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Penlie I think you will appreciate this chapter. I hope so anyways. Disclaimer- You know what? I bet I could say that I own Sherlock and I wouldn't get into any legal cases over it. I doubt anyone who owns Sherlock will ever read this. So I'm just gonna leave this note like it is without a disclaimer and see what happens. Daring...**

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John awoke at 5:30 the next morning and dragged himself out of bed. He put on a tee shirt and pulled on his favorite pair of jeans, the dark blue ones Sarah had gotten him as a gift many years ago when they had their first Christmas together. He walked through the dark flat and into the bathroom where he proceeded to brush his teeth, before returning to his room, grabbing his bag with his things, slipped on a pair of shoes, and exited the flat. He got in his car and started the drive to St. Bards Public School. When he arrived about twenty minutes later he walked into the main office to check if there were any papers he needed to pick up. There were none so John made to exit the building and head to his classroom. As he exited he passed the schools library. He stopped to look inside, only intending to study the interior for a moment before moving on. But as he gazed into the library he noticed a single solitary figure sitting at a table. Sherlock Holmes. What was Sherlock doing in a library at six o'clock in the morning? Curiosity got the better of John. He entered the library casually and walked over to Sherlock, who, was once again buried in a book with a small frown on his face, concentrating on the text before him. John sat down next to Sherlock who failed to acknowledge him at all.

"... What do you want, John?" Sherlock asked after several moments of silence.

" You, as a student, are to call me Mr. Watson, Sherlock."

Sherlock closed his book and looked John in the eye. " What do you want, Mr. Watson?"

" I would like to know how you knew all those things you said in class yesterday, Sherlock." John told him in a level headed voice. He studied Sherlock closer and noticed that he appeared to be wearing the same clothes as he had been the day before, increasing Johns level of interest.

" I didn't." Was Sherlocks simple reply.

" Obviously you did, Sherlock, otherwise we wouldn't be having this conversation. Just tell me how you knew."

Sherlock fiddled with his hands a bit and shifted in his seat uncomfortably, the unpleasant memories of what his deductions had caused him to do to himself resurfacing.

" I didn't know. I deduced it from you. Your shoes, shirt, jeans, bag, phone everything. I noticed everything from your stuff and your habits." Sherlock returned to his book.

" That's... Interesting." John settled on as a response. " How exactly do you do that, Sherlock?" He still believed that Sherlock had simply looked him up on the Internet. The student closed his book again.

" It's somewhat difficult to explain the entire process. I would need time to figure out a good way to explain it." Sherlock said. John nodded.

" Of course. You know what then, Sherlock?" He asked.

" What?"

" Why don't you have lunch with me in my classroom today? You can explain it then." John suggested. Sherlock looked somewhat taken back by being invited to eat with John, but quickly recovered.

" Fine."

John smiled and stood up. " Great. I've got to be off, get ready for the day and such, but I'll see you during class and lunch!" John said enthusiastically.

" 'Kay." Sherlock replied, opening up his book one last time.

John exited the library in high spirits, feeling that he would finally discover how Sherlock knew so much about his personal life. And all he had to do was wait a few hours.

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**Things are happening! Leave a review! Reviews are what my diet consist of! Reviews contain nutrients such as: Your ideas being used, new characters, cool plot lines, better editing jobs, more creative word choices and a happier author! Now that my plead is over, in case you don't read the reviews section, I've been pondering with the idea of having John and Sarah hook up later, probably around chapter twenty. For more details check out the reviews section. That's it, I'll update tomorrow. Have a wonderful day! DFTBA!**


	7. Chapter 7

**You guys are special so I walked a mile and a half in freezing cold rain to get to YMCA where I proceeded to try three different computers before finding one that did not qualify FFN as a mature website. That's how you tell that I really like you guys. So here's the chapter, I hope you enjoy! Disclaimer- *Insert clever line about me not owning Sherlock here***

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The next three hours passed quickly for John in his anticipation of meeting Sherlock for lunch. During the first class of the day John noticed how Sherlock refused to take notes, instead tracing his desk and staring off into space.

So there was John, waiting patiently for Sherlock. Five minutes passed and the student still had not shown up. John reasoned that perhaps he was still in his last class, gathering his things and making his way over to Johns classroom. Another five minutes passed. By this time John was getting a little impatient. It shouldn't be taking Sherlock this long. Another five minutes passed. John stood up suddenly from his desk and began to walk towards the cafeteria, assuming that Sherlock had forgotten all about his promise to have lunch with John and was instead busy reading his book. John entered the cafeteria and scanned it for Sherlock, but to no avail. He simply wasn't there. John walked over to George, thinking that perhaps he knew something about the boys whereabouts.

" Hey, George?" He asked.

" Ah, there you are, John. What is it?"

" Do you know where Sherlock is?"

" No idea. I don't keep tabs on him, but he's probably off somewhere doing an 'experiment'." George informed him.

" What sort of experiments?" John sat down, suddenly interested.

" I don't know, he won't ever tell. Just says that he's working on an experiment. Won't ever tell anyone more than that. Why do you even want to know where he is?" George asked.

" He said he would have lunch with me. He said he would and then he just doesn't show up. I thought he would be in here reading his book. Experiments..." John trailed off, musing quietly to himself.

" Why was Sherlock going to have lunch with you?" George asked suddenly.

" That thing he does, when he just knows stuff about you? He said was would try to explain to me how he does it. Personally I think it's a load of bull, he probably just looks people up on a computer. But I wanted to see how well he would cover up, or if he would come clean. I'll have to find him later, see what happened. I suppose I'll see you later." And with that John exited the cafeteria, heading back to his classroom, wondering where Sherlock could possibly be.

oOo

The end of the day came quickly for John and soon he was making his way across the schools campus to hand in his attendance papers. He looked up from his papers for a moment and saw that none other than Sherlock was walking slightly In front of him, his shoulders hunched. Perfect, thought John. He could finally figure out what had kept the student away from his classroom. He sped up to a sort of walk-run and arrived by Sherlocks side.

" Hey, Sherlock." John greeted, hoping to incite a conversation out of the boy. However he was met with silence.

" Where we're you today? I couldn't find you at lunch." He tried instead.

" I forgot." Mumbled Sherlock. John nodded.

" What were you up to then?" He asked.

" ...Stuff." Sherlock replied without looking up. John grew worried at Sherlocks reply. George said that Sherlock often did experiments and it seemed likely o John that was exactly what the young student had been doing. So why wasn't he telling John? Perhaps his experiments were dangerous, not allowed to be preformed at school. He wasn't going to voice that concern, not at that precise moment. He would try a couple more times, see if Sherlock would tell him something without being pressed too hard.

" Sherlock. What were you up to? Look up at me, proper eye contact. Come on now." John coaxed.

Sherlock quietly said something about not wanting to look up, stating that eye contact was over rated. John put his hand on Sherlocks shoulder and stepped dead in his tracks. He noticed how Sherlock flinched slightly when he made physical contact with him but he kept like that anyways.

" Sherlock, you tell me what you were doing, now. You make eye contact, now." John demanded in a firm voice. Sherlock looked up at John and gave him the eye contact he had commanded.

" I was in the library okay?! I was reading in the library! That what I was up to! Is that okay?!" He asked angrily. John ignored Sherlocks question, to distracted by his face.

" Sherlock..." He began carefully. " What happened to you?"

Sherlock had two black eyes, causing him to look much like a raccoon. He also had a swollen split lip and blood under his nose and the corners of his mouth. Small cuts and scrapes riddled his face.

" Nothing. Nothing happened." Said Sherlock.

" Sherlock, something happened. Tell me what it was. Please." John requested. Sherlock broke eye contact.

" I tripped." He said lamely.

" Don't lie to me, Sherlock! What did you do during lunch? How did you get hurt?!" John demanded.

" I got beat up! Okay?!" Sherlock told him in a raised voice.

" By who?" John asked, trying to take in the full excuse of Sherlocks injury. He was leaning forward just enough to let John know that his mid section was hurt as well.

" I don't know." Sherlock answered quickly.

John shook his head in disbelief. " I said don't lie to me, Sherlock. You know who did this. Why won't you tell me?"

Johns question was met with silence.

" Fine. Don't tell me who did it. Why did they do it though? At least tell me that."

Johns hand had not left his students shoulder the entire time and at this last question he felt Sherlock start to shake ever so slightly. Sherlock wiped Johns hand off of his shoulder and he backed up some.

" Sherlock tell me. Please." John pleaded.

Silence.

" Okay then. But you be in my room for lunch tomorrow. Is that clear? I don't care what you'd like to be doing, you will be in my classroom. And you will explain things. Do you understand me?"

John received a nod of the head for his efforts Sherlock turned around and began, what John assumed, his walk home. John himself finished his walk to the office and handed I his papers before heading out to his car and finally beginning the drive back to his he drove through traffic he couldn't help but try to figure out exactly what it was that Sherlock wasn't telling him. He put together the pieces. John guessed that Sherlock had began to make his way to Johns classroom to have lunch with him. From that point all John could think of was that Sherlock had gotten into a fight and things had gone rather badly for him. John caught himself. Sherlock had said he had gotten beat up, not that he had gotten into a fight. There's a difference John reminded himself. But aside from all the obvious facts he had put together, John had nothing. He didn't know who had beaten up Sherlock, he didn't know why they had done it. It was driving John crazy. He couldn't fathom why Sherlock wouldnt tell him, why he wouldn't appear to want help. John pulled into his usual parking spot, grabbed his things from the back seat and headed upstairs to his home. He entered, set his things down in his room and found Sarah.

" Hey, John," She greeted casually. " How was work?"

" Good. Listen, would you mind if I borrowed your lap top for a while? I've got something I need to look up."

" Go ahead. I've got a couple of things I need to pick up at the store, I'll be back soon." She told him, and the left the flat, leaving John alone. Not wasting a second, John powered up the laptop that was kept on the arm rest of the sofa. He entered the username and pass code to gain access to it and then opened up an Internet tab. He clicked the search engine bar and entered St. Bards High school. He then clicked the link that came up which led to the schools homepage. From there he entered a username and pass code that had been given to him when he acquired his position. It allowed him to access school data bases and look up information that only available to staff. He clicked on a button which read 'Search student' . It led him to a page where John entered the name 'Sherlock Holmes' and 'Grade Eleven'. And then he pressed search.

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**DUN DUN DUUUNNNN! What happened to Sherlock? Why wont he tell John? What will John find in his search for information? You will have to keep reading top find out! (That was beyond cheesy, I know) Input your opinion in the review you leave! Hinthint! Or PM me! Either way have a great day and DFTBA!**


	8. Chapter 8

**You guys are special so I walked a mile and a half in freezing cold rain to get to YMCA where I proceeded to try three different computers before finding one that did not qualify FFN as a mature website. That's how you tell that I really like you guys. So here's the chapter, I hope you enjoy! Disclaimer- *Insert clever line about me not owning Sherlock here***

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The next three hours passed quickly for John in his anticipation of meeting Sherlock for lunch. During the first class of the day John noticed how Sherlock refused to take notes, instead tracing his desk and staring off into space.

So there was John, waiting patiently for Sherlock. Five minutes passed and the student still had not shown up. John reasoned that perhaps he was still in his last class, gathering his things and making his way over to Johns classroom. Another five minutes passed. By this time John was getting a little impatient. It shouldn't be taking Sherlock this long. Another five minutes passed. John stood up suddenly from his desk and began to walk towards the cafeteria, assuming that Sherlock had forgotten all about his promise to have lunch with John and was instead busy reading his book. John entered the cafeteria and scanned it for Sherlock, but to no avail. He simply wasn't there. John walked over to George, thinking that perhaps he knew something about the boys whereabouts.

" Hey, George?" He asked.

" Ah, there you are, John. What is it?"

" Do you know where Sherlock is?"

" No idea. I don't keep tabs on him, but he's probably off somewhere doing an 'experiment'." George informed him.

" What sort of experiments?" John sat down, suddenly interested.

" I don't know, he won't ever tell. Just says that he's working on an experiment. Won't ever tell anyone more than that. Why do you even want to know where he is?" George asked.

" He said he would have lunch with me. He said he would and then he just doesn't show up. I thought he would be in here reading his book. Experiments..." John trailed off, musing quietly to himself.

" Why was Sherlock going to have lunch with you?" George asked suddenly.

" That thing he does, when he just knows stuff about you? He said was would try to explain to me how he does it. Personally I think it's a load of bull, he probably just looks people up on a computer. But I wanted to see how well he would cover up, or if he would come clean. I'll have to find him later, see what happened. I suppose I'll see you later." And with that John exited the cafeteria, heading back to his classroom, wondering where Sherlock could possibly be.

oOo

The end of the day came quickly for John and soon he was making his way across the schools campus to hand in his attendance papers. He looked up from his papers for a moment and saw that none other than Sherlock was walking slightly In front of him, his shoulders hunched. Perfect, thought John. He could finally figure out what had kept the student away from his classroom. He sped up to a sort of walk-run and arrived by Sherlocks side.

" Hey, Sherlock." John greeted, hoping to incite a conversation out of the boy. However he was met with silence.

" Where we're you today? I couldn't find you at lunch." He tried instead.

" I forgot." Mumbled Sherlock. John nodded.

" What were you up to then?" He asked.

" ...Stuff." Sherlock replied without looking up. John grew worried at Sherlocks reply. George said that Sherlock often did experiments and it seemed likely o John that was exactly what the young student had been doing. So why wasn't he telling John? Perhaps his experiments were dangerous, not allowed to be preformed at school. He wasn't going to voice that concern, not at that precise moment. He would try a couple more times, see if Sherlock would tell him something without being pressed too hard.

" Sherlock. What were you up to? Look up at me, proper eye contact. Come on now." John coaxed.

Sherlock quietly said something about not wanting to look up, stating that eye contact was over rated. John put his hand on Sherlocks shoulder and stepped dead in his tracks. He noticed how Sherlock flinched slightly when he made physical contact with him but he kept like that anyways.

" Sherlock, you tell me what you were doing, now. You make eye contact, now." John demanded in a firm voice. Sherlock looked up at John and gave him the eye contact he had commanded.

" I was in the library okay?! I was reading in the library! That what I was up to! Is that okay?!" He asked angrily. John ignored Sherlocks question, to distracted by his face.

" Sherlock..." He began carefully. " What happened to you?"

Sherlock had two black eyes, causing him to look much like a raccoon. He also had a swollen split lip and blood under his nose and the corners of his mouth. Small cuts and scrapes riddled his face.

" Nothing. Nothing happened." Said Sherlock.

" Sherlock, something happened. Tell me what it was. Please." John requested. Sherlock broke eye contact.

" I tripped." He said lamely.

" Don't lie to me, Sherlock! What did you do during lunch? How did you get hurt?!" John demanded.

" I got beat up! Okay?!" Sherlock told him in a raised voice.

" By who?" John asked, trying to take in the full excuse of Sherlocks injury. He was leaning forward just enough to let John know that his mid section was hurt as well.

" I don't know." Sherlock answered quickly.

John shook his head in disbelief. " I said don't lie to me, Sherlock. You know who did this. Why won't you tell me?"

Johns question was met with silence.

" Fine. Don't tell me who did it. Why did they do it though? At least tell me that."

Johns hand had not left his students shoulder the entire time and at this last question he felt Sherlock start to shake ever so slightly. Sherlock wiped Johns hand off of his shoulder and he backed up some.

" Sherlock tell me. Please." John pleaded.

Silence.

" Okay then. But you be in my room for lunch tomorrow. Is that clear? I don't care what you'd like to be doing, you will be in my classroom. And you will explain things. Do you understand me?"

John received a nod of the head for his efforts Sherlock turned around and began, what John assumed, his walk home. John himself finished his walk to the office and handed I his papers before heading out to his car and finally beginning the drive back to his he drove through traffic he couldn't help but try to figure out exactly what it was that Sherlock wasn't telling him. He put together the pieces. John guessed that Sherlock had began to make his way to Johns classroom to have lunch with him. From that point all John could think of was that Sherlock had gotten into a fight and things had gone rather badly for him. John caught himself. Sherlock had said he had gotten beat up, not that he had gotten into a fight. There's a difference John reminded himself. But aside from all the obvious facts he had put together, John had nothing. He didn't know who had beaten up Sherlock, he didn't know why they had done it. It was driving John crazy. He couldn't fathom why Sherlock wouldnt tell him, why he wouldn't appear to want help. John pulled into his usual parking spot, grabbed his things from the back seat and headed upstairs to his home. He entered, set his things down in his room and found Sarah.

" Hey, John," She greeted casually. " How was work?"

" Good. Listen, would you mind if I borrowed your lap top for a while? I've got something I need to look up."

" Go ahead. I've got a couple of things I need to pick up at the store, I'll be back soon." She told him, and the left the flat, leaving John alone. Not wasting a second, John powered up the laptop that was kept on the arm rest of the sofa. He entered the username and pass code to gain access to it and then opened up an Internet tab. He clicked the search engine bar and entered St. Bards High school. He then clicked the link that came up which led to the schools homepage. From there he entered a username and pass code that had been given to him when he acquired his position. It allowed him to access school data bases and look up information that only available to staff. He clicked on a button which read 'Search student' . It led him to a page where John entered the name 'Sherlock Holmes' and 'Grade Eleven'. And then he pressed search.

* * *

**DUN DUN DUUUNNNN! What happened to Sherlock? Why wont he tell John? What will John find in his search for information? You will have to keep reading top find out! (That was beyond cheesy, I know) Input your opinion in the review you leave! Hinthint! Or PM me! Either way have a great day and DFTBA!**


	9. Chapter 9

**New chapter. Disclaimer- don't own it.**

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John read through Sherlocks file, which provided him with basic information about the boy. For a moment John wondered if this was strange, him looking up a student just to gain information. He quickly dismissed the thought. No, he was just being concerned, that was all. John checked Sherlocks address. 221b Baker Street. He cringed at that, knowing that Sherlock lived in quite possibly one of the worst parts of all of London. The place, he knew, was full of gangs and drugs, and was really a very poor area all around. John filed away the information for future use, it might come in handy to know where Sherlock lived. As for grades it appeared that Sherlock was a D to F student in all of his classes, the latter being the majority. There was the small exception of band in which, as John looked at his middle school records that seemed to follow the same pattern as his high school ones, he had never failed to achieve a 4.0 GPA. All five years that he had been in band he had maintained a perfect A. John found all this information very interesting, and would perhaps try to bring some of it up during lunch the next day. Speaking of which, he needed to pack his for the next day. He closed the laptop and began to search the kitchen for bread. After several minutes he found some and slathered some peanut butter strawberry jam onto it. He also chose a Gaterade and a banana. He put the food into his standard plastic bag and placed them in the fridge. John then Returned to his room and flicked on a light. He pulled out some papers and began going through lesson plans for the next day. He planned to give his students a test. Not a large one, just one to see what they already knew. Maybe an extra one as well for what he'd been teaching them for the last couple of days. A wave of tiredness overcame John. He checked the time on his wrist watch: 9:00. Where had his time gone? Oh yes, checking Sherlocks file had taken him quite a while. He finished making plans, changed into a pair of athletic shorts and fell into his bed, dozing off into blessed unconsciousness.

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**Short I know. Again. Next chapters get longer. Please review. Pretty please. I thank you ahead of time. Have a great day and DFTBA!**


	10. Chapter 10

Sherlock lay on his bed, sweating profusely. It had been almost an hour since he had come down from his high, and he felt wonderful. He knew what he was doing was screwing him up even more than he already was, but it was his way of dealing with what went on in his life. Cocaine and cutting. He honestly couldn't think of any other way to deal. Everything else was boring, but this gave his mind something to focus on. Something else other than school and the things that went in there. Something else other than his sociopathic tendencies. Something other than thinking about just how screwed up he really was. Something other than thinking about what added up to make him the way he was. It was how Sherlock coped. It would always be how he coped.

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**Please forgive me, I feel terrible. Next chapter is about a thousand words to make up for all of these sad little things. Please review. Statistics show that if you review, short chapters will magically become longer. *coughs uncomfortablely at this terrible lie* So yeah, you get the point. All the chapters get longer from here on out! Have a good day, and thank you for bearing with me through the shortness of these chapters! You are all wonderfull people!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer- Wishful thinking will not get me the rights to Sherlock.**

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John woke up to the beeping of his alarm clock and pulled himself out of bed. He changed tee shirts, pulled on a pair of jeans, ran a comb through half of his hair, brushed his teeth, grabbed his things and exited the flat quietly. He arrived at St. Bards a short time later and begins to walk towards his classroom but stops. He wondered if Sherlock was in the library again. John thought about his options for a moment. He had gotten all of his work done the night before so even if he did go to the library he would still be on track for the rest of the day. It couldn't hurt to go check. John made his decision. He turned and walked towards the library, away from his entered the main building and peered through the small windows that were fixed on the push doors. Sure enough Sherlock was there, though John couldn't quite make out what he was doing. John opened one of the doors and walked over to where Sherlock sat down in a chair next to him, much like he had be day before. Unlike the day before though, Sherlock looked up at John, stopping whatever it was that he had been doing. It was still however, up to John to start a conversation between the two.

" Whatcha doing, Sherlock?" He promted, looking around for any clues that would help to answer his question.

" ... Nothing, really." Sherlock replied quietly. John studied Sherlocks body for a few moments. His face was slightly better but John could tell that his midriff was still bothering him greatly.

" How are you doing?" He asked, genuinely concerned about his students health.

" Terrible." The word came out of Sherlocks mouth before he could stop it. He clamped his jaw shut, cursing himself. Sherlock broke eye contact and suddenly decided that his hands were the most interesting thing that the world had to offer. Johns eye brow quirked and he cocked his head to the side very slightly, wondering if he should take the chance to asking what was wrong. He might as well, even if he did, he got the feeling that he wouldn't be getting much of an answer, John rationalized.

" Sherlock-" He began.

" Why are you asking all of these questions?!" Sherlock asked abruptly. John fumbled over his words for a minute, mildly thrown off of his line of thought by the sudden question that had been posed. Sherlock studied John carefully for a second as the teacher struggled for words. After a brief moment he stood up and grabbed his things, an infuriated look on his features.

" Can't even give me an answer." Sherlock muttered to himself, but still loudly enough for John to hear. Johns mouth opened slightly, mind whirling, trying to think of something, anything to say to Sherlock. His student had began to walk towards the library's exit when John finally found his voice.

" Because I care, Sherlock." He said loudly enough to be heard by the Holmes boy. Sherlock stopped walking for a moment, as if he couldn't believe what he had just heard.

" Lunch. My classroom. Today. Don't forget." John told him. Sherlock slowly turned around and gave a small nod to John before heading out of the library, his head spinning. John cared. He cared. For all of Sherlocks brilliance, not once had the thought entered his mind that John might have actually cared about him. Not once had the possibility been toyed with. It was a completely foreign concept. He wondered what it could possibly bring.

oOo

John continued to sit in the library, rubbing his fingers gently on his temples. After a short time he stood up and exited the library, Sherlock nowhere to be seen. Why had he said that he cared? It wasn't that he didn't care it was just... John didn't know. It was all too confusing to be thinking about this early in the morning. He had been teaching for three days as of today and he had managed to get himself concerned with a student. At least to a degree. John shook his head, ran his hands through his short blonde hair and returned to his classroom to get settled for the day.

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**All right, that chapter was 730 words long. I said it would be a thousand. It will be one thousand. So here begins a really long authors note. First of all, I would thank all the super awesome people who reviewed yesterday. Second, this story has over two thousand views. All because of you guys. So a great big shout out for all of you who have read the story, I'm incredibly ecstatic about that. Thirdly, suggestions! I live off these things! Pinlie left me a really cool one I am most likely going to use once I figure out all the finer plot points, but by no means will that be the end of this story! I still don't know where I want this to go so I. Need. Ideas. PLEASE! Alright, I'm at 868 words now... Ummm... Who would be some characters you guys would want to see? I'm open to most anything. If you wanted I could sort of base some of the chapters loosely (I'm not sure how loosely) off of a few of the episodes. It's not a road I want to go down, I prefer to come up with my own things, but if you wanted it and said so in the reviews you leave (hinthint) I could maybe do a bit of that. 957. I think that's about it. Once again please leave a review and perhaps a suggestion. I also like constructive criticism! If you see mistake feel free to point them out and I will do my best to fix them! 997. Thanks again!1000.**


	12. Chapter 12

" Alright now." John said to his first class of the day. School had started just a few minutes ago. " So. Today..." He let the word hang in the air for a few seconds. " We have a test." He paused to watch their reaction. The entire class gave a collective groan. He smiled wryly to himself before continuing.

" Actually that was a lie."

Sighs of relief swept the room.

" We've got two test."

Another groan, louder this time.

" One of them," John continued as his class quieted down. " Is a purely formative assessment. It won't hurt of help your grade in here. Just want to know a little bit of your background knowledge, see what I need to teach during the rest of the year. The other one, however, will count as part of your grade since its covering what I've been teaching the last few days." John grabbed the pile of test that had been sitting on his desk. " I'll pass these out and then you'll have the rest of the period to work on them. Go ahead and start as soon as you get yours." And with that he beta to hand out test. He reached Sherlock, who had his head resting on his arms, breathing deeply. For a moment John thought that he was asleep, and was about to poke him awake when Sherlock opened his eyes and took the tests from John before returning to his original position. John was slightly taken aback by this but finished passing out test and then returned to his desk and waited for time to pass.

oOo

Sherlock stared at his tests for a moment. He picked up one and looked at it, then flipped it over and did the same thing. He paused, gazing at the questions and then placed it back on his desk, then returned to what he had been doing before, head nestled inside of his arms. He closed his eyes contentedly and waited for class to end.

oOo

John had been watching Sherlock carefully for several minutes. He wasn't working on his test. True, John had not seen him take a single note over the last few days, but he should still be making an effort. Another thing to mention during lunch. It was growing to be quite a list, thought John. He turned his thoughts away from the boy and found a book to immerse himself in.

oOo

The bell rang and class ended. John closed his book and stood up, preparing himself for the incoming flood of tests that were about to be passed his way. At the back of the class, as normal, Sherlock came up and passed his papers to John. John took a quick glance at them. Blank except for his name and the date printed at the top. Sherlock exited the class before a word could be exchanged. The next class came rushing in and John recomposed himself, smiling at his students before starting class and breaking the news about the test once more.

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**So... Great interest has been expressed in introducing Lestade. I really like Lestrade and really want to bring him in because I think his character is wonderful. I need ideas in how to bring him into the story though. I've got a few and you can tell me which one you want to see or leave a suggestion of your own in the reviews or PM me. Here they are- 1. Lestrade is a student. Not sure how I would swing that one and I don't think it would turn out as well. 2. Lestrade is an actual cop. Pinlies idea of having a murder of one of Sherlocks bullies with Sherlock being the prime suspect. Sherlock is taken into questioning with Lestrade as the interrogator. When (and if) Sherlocks innocence is proven, Sherlock says or does something that spikes Lestrades interest in him. BAM! He becomes a permanent character in the story. 3. Lestrade is the disciplinary director of the school. Sherlock does something, like get in a fight or get in a yelling match with someone (I don't know) and gets sent to Lestrade for discipline. Same story, Sherlock does something that makes Lestrade interested in Sherlock and he becomes part of the story. Tell me what you think! Give me another idea! And in response to Marie- Molly will get introduced. I've written it out and she comes in somewhere around 17. Lestrade won't come in till later than that, sorry. Anyways, thanks for reading this long note, please review and DFTBA!**


	13. Chapter 13

**I apoligize at the late time of which this chapter has been posted. I've had a sort of insane day. Real life can be very good at getting in the way of writing these things. There's also the small fact that this chapter is 4000 words long**. **Yeah. I promised at least 2000 but you get double that instead. Merry Christmas and Happy Hannaka. Or you know, whatever it is that you celebrate. Anyways here's the chapter. Disclaimer- As hard as I tried last night, my efforts to get Moffat to drop the rights to Sherlock inside of my trick or treating pillow case failed. I even dressed up as a Dalek, I kid you not. Enjoy!**

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John pulled out his lunch and placed it on his desk. He then proceeded to grab his classroom keys, exit he room and lock the door. He began walking towards the class that he knew Sherlock had with George before lunch. John had no intention of letting him sneak away this time. He arrived at his destination several minutes later and was about to open the door to enter when he fell short. Yelling emitted from the room, definitely George's voice, John recognized. What was being said however, was lost through the concrete wall of the school, so John opened the door very slightly in order to be able to hear what was being said.

" -You have to do your work!" Yelled George. Intrigued, John stepped into the classroom, discreetly enough not to be noticed.

" Why?" Asked the calm voice of Sherlock Holmes.

" Because you're at school, Sherlock! That's what people do! They do work!" George shouted.

" Maybe if I saw the point I would do the work." Replied Sherlock.

" I don't care if you don't see the point! You! Will! Do! Your! Work!" George demanded.

" Or else what?" Sherlock challenged.

" If you don't do your work voluntarily, then I will use any means, and I do mean any, to force you to do it. I'll give you detention, I'll send you to the office, I won't let you leave my sight until you've completed everything I've instructed you to do, and I'll do a great deal more than that!"

Sherlock sighed. " Why would you go through all that effort though?" he asked.

" Because it's my job! It's what I get paid to do! I am contracted to make sure that every person in this class succeeds! Or at least I'm supposed to do everything within my power to help you succeed, no matter how much I hate it!" George spat.

" I'm preoccupied with more important things to do than figure out how to find the X in equations." Sherlock said.

" What are you preoccupied with then? Your stupid experiments?!" Scoffed George.

" They're not stupid." Sherlock defended quietly.

" You won't ever explain what it is that you're doing! So if they're not stupid, Sherlock, what are they? Why don't you explain your so called experiments that are so important that you're flunking out of every class you're taking?! I don't care, Sherlock, I really don't. I won't stop you because I. Don't. Care. So if I won't stop you, why won't you tell me?!"

Sherlock stated down at his feet, shifting from side to side.

" Are they illegal? Is that it?!"

Silence once more.

" Give me your backpack."

That grabbed Sherlocks attention. His head snapped up and he grabbed his backpack protectively.

" Backpack now, Sherlock." George demanded.

" Why?" Sherlock asked again.

" Why do you think, Sherlock? I want to check it. See what you're hiding in there. So hand it over."

" I'm not hiding anything." Said Sherlock, his anger obviously growing.

" Then you wouldn't mind me checking, would you?" George asked condescendingly. He stalked towards Sherlock and yanked the bag out of his hands.

" Give me it back!" Sherlock almost yelled, furious. John finally spoke up.

" George."

His co-workers head flew to look at John.

"I'll handle Sherlock if you'd like. You go eat lunch. I'll be fine."

" How long have you been there?" Sherlock asked.

" Shut up, Sherlock."'George growled at the boy, causing a hurt look to flash across his face for the briefest of moments.

" Long enough, Sherlock." John answered. " Come on, George, he was supposed to eat with me today anyways. I'll take care of everything." John offered calmly.

" You're sure?" George asked.

" Positive." Came the reply.

" Take the freak then." George muttered. And again the look of hurt came to Sherlocks face, however this time it wasn't for a short moment. This time it stayed. George set the backpack on the ground roughly and walked out the door, allowing it to slam shut loudly. Sherlock hesitated for a moment before racing to his backpack and picking it up. He shook it gently and then put his ear to it and repeated the motion. He unzipped it slightly and John saw his mouth open slightly and form what looked like a swear at what what the insides held. Sherlock suddenly seemed to remember that John was in the room. He stood up and gingerly put the backpack over his shoulders, an unhappy look on his features.

" What?" He asked shortly, displeased with recent events.

" Lunch." John reminded him. " My room? Now?" He added helpfully. Sherlock apparently remembered and nodded his head. He made his way over to John who walked out the door with him.

" So..." John started, choosing his words with care. " What was that all about then?"

Sherlock looked up at him. " I wouldn't do my work." He replied simply.

" Why not?" John prompted. Sherlock shrugged.

" Didn't feel like it."

John nodded. " Ah." He opened the door to his classroom and they entered. John sat at his desk while Sherlock stood underneath the door frame awkwardly.

" Go ahead, take a seat." Said John. Sherlock complied and sat across from John, who pulled out his sandwich and took a bite. He noticed that Sherlock wasn't taking anything of his own out.

" Where's your lunch, Sherlock?" He asked curiously.

" Haven't got one." Sherlock replied as he looked around the room. John remembered when he had seen Sherlock on Monday, he hadn't had one then either.

" You didn't have a lunch on Monday either." John said, trying to get a reaction out of his student.

" Nope." He confirmed.

" Did you, ah, have one yesterday?"

" No..." Sherlock suddenly stopped looking around the room and focused his gaze on John. " Why do you ask?" He said suspiciously.

" No reason..." Lied John. He looked at Sherlock closer for a minute. He was unnaturally skinny for his height and age.

" Do you ever have a lunch?" John inquired.

" No."

" Don't eat lunch... Must have a pretty big breakfast then." John suggested, watching Sherlock closely for a reaction. And then he saw it. Or rather he didn't see it. Sherlock hesitated for just a moment too long before answering.

" Yeah, I suppose." Sherlock said awkwardly. John sat a little bit straighter and put his sandwich down.

" What did I tell you yesterday, Sherlock?" He asked patiently. His student looked at him, a bewildered look on his face.

" I'm sorry, what?" He asked.

" I told you not to lie to me." John said in the same manner as before, if slightly more aggressively. A look of realization came over Sherlock who cleared his throat.

" And what exactly am I lying to you about?" He asked. John knew he was stalling for time so he cut to the point.

" You don't eat breakfast." He stated.

" Congratulations, you've figured it out." Sherlock retorted in a bored voice.

" Sherlock, how long has it been since you've eaten?" John asked, concerned.

" I don't see why it matters-" Sherlock said hurriedly.

" Sherlock. Tell. Me. Now." John demanded, placing a firm hand on he youths shoulder, noticing once more how he flinched.

" Okay, okay, give me a second..." Sherlock searched his short-term memory. Nothing there. He remembered further back and found the last thing he had eaten. But that was too long ago. Far too long ago to tell without evoking suspicion.

" Three days." He said instead. Once again John noticed that telltale signs that Sherlock was lying to him.

" The real last time you've eaten, Sherlock, not the last time you've made up." John said, exasperated.

" A banana."

" When?"

"... Thirteen days ago." And John could tell that this time it was the truth. He stood up from his chair.

" Christ, Sherlock!" He said in a raised voice. " You need to eat something! Now!" He exclaimed.

" Why?"

" Because not eating for thirteen days is an eating disorder, Sherlock! You need to food to function!"

" I'm not hungry." His student defended. John sat back down, breathing heavily. He shoved his sandwich towards Sherlock.

" You eat that sandwich, now." He said forcefully. Sherlock pushed the sandwich back to John.

" I'm not hungry, and I don't have an 'eating disorder'."

John almost laughed.

" If you haven't eaten in thirteen days then that's anorexia, Sherlock."

Sherlock scoffed. " There's a difference between not eating and anorexia John." He stated.

" I don't care what you think it is, just eat the sandwich." John told him, shaking his head. Sherlock could see that John was not going to back down about the matter so he picked up the sandwich and took a bite.

" There. Are you happy?" He asked.

" The whole thing, Sherlock. Come on now." John coaxed. Sherlock sighed and ate the sandwich as he was told. He leaned back on his chair, relaxing with his hands behind his head. John however, was not about to let the matter go that easily.

" Sherlock, why haven't you been eating?" He asked leaning forward slightly, trying to be as inviting as he possibly could. Sherlock broke eye contact. Damn. He wouldn't be getting a straight answer.

" Not hungry." Sherlock muttered.

" That's a load of bull and you know it. Tell me. Please."

Sherlock flared suddenly and he looked back up at John.

" I told you. Not hungry. Leave it alone." he told John, his voice angry, but at the same time John could detect a small tremor in it. Interesting.

" Okay, fine. Different subject then... What's in your backpack?"

Sherlocks entire body stiffened. " You know, notebooks, pencils school stuff..." He trailed off.

" Why didn't you want Sawny getting into it then?" John inquired.

" Maybe I don't enjoy having people go brought my things." Sherlock retorted.

" So-" John started but was cut off by Sherlock.

" This isn't what you had me come here for. You wanted to know how I knew things about you, not the things you're asking about now. Get to be point." Sherlock rolled his head back, staring at the ceiling, waiting for Johns response.

"'Sherlock, at this point figuring that out isn't exactly my top priority!" John laughed humorously.

" What's your top priority then?"

" Figuring things about about you! About your life!" John could feel the tension in the room, already high, rise about 200% as he watched Sherlocks body grow rigid yet again.

" Don't." Sherlock warned him in a dangerous voice. John cocked his head to one side.

" Why not?" He asked.

" Because I...I- Just don't do this okay?! Just stop doing this-... This whatever it is that you're trying to do! Just stop!" Sherlock said, a definite shake in his voice now.

" Sherlock I-"

" Why are you acting like you care?!" Sherlock demanded.

" I'm not acting, Sherlock!" John told him, exasperated.

" Then what are you doing?"

" I care, Sherlock! It's not an act, I care! So just let me ask you some things! Okay?" He asked hopefully. Sherlock studied him, eyes calculating.

" Why do you care?"

John hesitated. Truth be told he wasn't sure.

" I don't know. All I know is hat I want to help you. Go ahead, you can talk to me. What's in your backpack, huh? Let me look through it."

A lost look came over Sherlock. He wanted to trust someone so badly. Wanted to be cared for so much. He could give in. Not all the way, just a bit. He could let John into his life. Maybe it would be for the better. Maybe it would help him. Sherlock made his decision.

" Alright." He said quietly. Johns mouth opened slightly. Of all things he had not been expecting this.

" I'm sorry?"

" I said alright." He picked up his backpack and handed it to John, who accepted it, still slightly disbelieving of the sudden turn of events.

" Okay then... Can I look through it?" John asked cautiously. Sherlock hesitated for a second before answering.

" I... Suppose you can." He replied. John finally wrapped his head around the fact that Sherlock had decided to trust him. Why he had and how much was lost to him but he was sure that this was a positive step forward compared to where he had been just a few moments ago. John unzipped the backpack quickly before Sherlock could change his mind. Sherlock watched I'm with interest.

" Careful." He warned. John hesitated slightly at the warning. He shook it off and peered inside the bag. Inside there was a huge mess. Broken glass lay everywhere, powder coated the sides and liquid pooled at the bottom. There was a solitary notebook inside, most definitely ruined by now. John exhaled and placed the backpack on the desk with extreme care.

" Sherlock, what's in there? You told me to be carefull, is that stuff dangerous?" He asked, genuinely scared by the contents of the backpack.

" Depends on your definition of dangerous." Sherlock replied, watching for any reaction.

" For the love of... Just tell me what's in there, Sherlock." He demanded. Sherlock considered.

" Give me my backpack I'll tell you. Having it'll help me remember everything I've got in there."

John gingerly pushed the bag across the table, his heart still beating faster than normal. Sherlock pushed his hand into the bag and John raised an eye brow.

" Is that safe?" He asked.

" Probably not." And he returned to rummaging through his pack. John grew concerned once more, Shelocks answer hadn't exactly been reassuring.

" Are these your experiments then?" John inquired.

" Yup." Sherlock pulled out a pile of glass and spread it out on the table whilst John watched. He studied the pile for several moments.

" Got it figured out yet?" John prompted.

" Yeah, I remember everything now." Came the mumbled reply.

" Do I, ah, want to know what's in there?" John asked. Sherlock looked up, a mischievous glint in his eye.

" Do you?"

" Yes." Was Johns immediate answer. Sherlock leaned back easily in his chair.

" Boric acid, copper, Sodium Hydroxide, Copper Sulfate, Lead, Calcium Carbonate, Sulfuric acid, tincture of Iodine, lithium battery's-"

" You've got all that in your backpack?!" John asked, just to confirm. He wasn't stupid, he was a science teacher, and a good one at that. He knew what all those chemicals could do. He buried his head in is hands for a moment before resurfacing.

" Answer me, Sherlock."

" Wha- Oh yes. All of those. In my backpack. Now. Any questions?"

" Have you got anything else?"

" Yes."

John cringed.

" I've got some wires, motors, those sorts of things."

" You've got a notebook in there. Can I look at it?" John asked, curious as to the contents of the book.

" Probably ruined by now-... Oh..." A sad look came over Sherlock.

" What is it, Sherlock?"

" It's probably ruined by now..." He pulled himself back together. " But yeah, you can see it." He dug inside his backpack and pulled out the wet notebook. John accepted it without hesitation, knowing that the acids had been neutralized by the bases. He opened it up, flipping through the soggy pages, taking in everything he could. Every page was covered in writing and detailed drawings. John raised an eye brow. Everything in the notebook was still there, unaffected by the wetness that covered it. John smiled and set the book down without having really read it.

" Sherlock, your notebook is fine." John informed him. A look of confusion came over Sherlock, which changed to one of thought as he considered what he had in his bag."...Oh...OH! Brilliant! The chemicals neutralized and then my ink... My ink didn't react! It bonded to the paper and the product was too stable to react with it!"

John couldn't help letting a broad smile work its way onto his face at Sherlocks excitement. Sherlock grabbed the book and flipped through it, satisfied he laughed and leaned back in his chair, becoming more relaxed in Johns company.

" So what's it full of then?" John asked once Sherlock had calmed down a bit. Sherlock grinned with euphoria and responded.

" It's a record of my experiments. My only record of my experiments." He explained.

" Could I look through it again?" John requested. Sherlock gave a shrug and pushed it back across the table. " There you are."

John flipped through the book more carefully this time, taking in everything he possibly could. He gave a low whistle. The experiments Sherlock had been carrying out were quite advanced for a fifteen year old. Hell, they were advanced for John, who had been studying science his entire life. John closed the book, having scanned it to his satisfaction.

" What do other people think of these?" He asked.

" I don't really tell other people."

" Why not?"

Sherlock snorted. " Really? Why do you think?" He asked condescendingly.

" Right." John nodded as the pieces clicked. Sherlock was obviously disliked by his classmates, the beating he had endured and still bore marks of was proof enough of that, these experiments wouldn't help his case. " Your class-" Began John

" I don't care what they think." Sherlock assured him. A confused look came over John as he struggled to understand.

Then why-" John started.

" None of my stuff is illegal," Sherlock explained casually. " But I would really rather not have other people know about it. Might get confiscated. People bring their mobiles to school, that's all perfectly fine so long as they're kept away. However when they bring them out, BAM!" Sherlock clapped his hands together suddenly causing John to flinch. " They get taken away. Same thing with my chemicals, all okay to have, just...best not to make it known." Sherlock finished, smiling slightly. John understood and nodded.

" So what do other people think of them though? I mean, people know about them, what do they think?" John asked. Sherlocks face passed into one of no emotion, answering with silence. John saw the shift and changed the subject again.

" What are your parents like, Sherlock?" He asked briskly.

" Dead." Came the blunt reply. John sat, shocked for a moment, lost in watching Sherlock fiddle with his hands, apparently unaffected by the question. He found his voice again.

" Who um... Who do you live with then?" He asked, still slightly shaken.

" Mycroft." Sherlock replied, discontent clear in his voice.

" Uncle, God father, foster parent...?" John asked.

" Brother. Seven years older. Don't know what he does. I hate him. He hates me." Sherlock listed off, sounding bored.

" So you don't know where he works, and you two hate each other?" John asked, double checking to make sure he had heard correctly.

" Pretty much. I don't even know if he works to be honest. Don't see him much. When I do he's drunk." A surprised look came over Sherlock and John cocked his head to the side. Another slip of the tongue. Interesting.

" I'm sorry Sherlock, what was hat last part?". he asked.

" Nothing." Sherlock stood up. " Lunch is almost over. I should get going." Sherlock said hurriedly. John checked his wrist watch. As little as he liked it, Sherlock was right. Lunch ended within two minutes. He sighed and stood up next to his student.

" Same thing tomorrow then?" It was not so much a request as it was an instruction.

" What?" Sherlock asked, laughing at the thought that John would actually want to have lunch with him a second time.

" Tomorrow? Same thing?" John suggested.

" Ah-I..." Sherlock settled on a nod to comply with John.

" Good. We can talk some more then. You have me... Interested to say the least." John said, choosing his words with care. Sherlock picked up his backpack wordlessly, gave John a nod of acknowledgment, and exited the classroom. Sherlock ran his schedule over in his head. His next class was English. God he hated English. The teacher was always making them read pointless text and write inferences about them. Writing about feeling as well. Seeing as how Sherlock was a self-proclaimed sociopath, he found this rather difficult. Almost to the point of it being impossible. Did he really want to fight with his teacher today? A decided 'no' entered his mind. He didn't want to argue and he didn't want to be bored. Skipping it was. Sherlock detoured from his original route and headed towards the library instead. He would stay there untill class was over, and then, depending on his mood, he would either head to his History class or skip that as well. Good, he thought to himself, he had a plan. He arrived at the library, pulled up his usual seat in the corner, grabbed a book about science, and waited.

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**So you've read the long chapter, now you get to read the hopefully shorter note at the bottom! Tell me what you thought! Back on focus though, people seem to want a cop Lestrade. Marylouleach mentioned Lestrade as a social worker. I quite like that idea. I've got a good idea of what a social worker does, my mother has a friend, but I would need a bit more clarification on finer points. I think I mentioned this last chapter, but this stuff probably won't be happening until after chapter twenty. So hold on, don't think I've forgotten all of your wonderful ideas; quite the opposite. I'm working on them now. Anyways please leave a review, thank you guys (Awesome people are awesome) and have a great day! There will be another chapter posted tomorrow. Unless I die. In which case my friend will inform you of this happening. Talk you you later!**


	14. Chapter 14

**I have not died, so here's the new chapter! Disclaimer- Do not own Sherlock.**

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Sherlock left and John sat back down, running his hands through his hair. He went through everything Sherlock had told him, creating a mental list of what he now knew.

Sherlock didn't eat unless forced to.

He didn't do his school work for whatever reason.

He seemed to enjoy carrying around powerful acids, bases, and other chemicals.

He had little regard for his own safety.

Sherlocks parents were dead, his brother possibly an alcoholic.

He didn't get on with anyone.

Sherlock had decided to trust John.

It wasn't a bad list for half an hours work, thought John as he prepared himself for his next class. He would get some more information tomorrow as well. Very good. He heard a commotion outside of his door, walked over to it, opened it , and allowed he flood of students to enter the room. A few minutes later as they calmed down, John spoke.

" Alright, we've got a test today..." John began for forth time that day.

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**Thanks to everyone who read and/or reviewed! I looked up stuff about social workers at 5:30 this morning, because of screw logic that's why, so I've got a better basis to be going off of now. If anyone has had experience with a social worker or you are yourself a social worker, if you feel comfortable go ahead and tell me. Suggestions! Suggestions are fun time! Thanks for reading, have a great day and DFTBA! **


	15. Chapter 15

**This is a really random chapter, I'm not really sure about it. I was all trying to write a chapter and my mind is just like BAM! Write this thingie instead! So here it is. Disclaimer- if I owned Sherlock would I actually be writing this on a site clearly labeled FanFiction? I think not.**

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Two hours had soon passed for Sherlock, as he had decided to skip History as well. The bell rang, dismissing school. Sherlock stood up slowly, stretching himself out. He put the book back on its shelf and left the library with his things. He began the short walk to the schools band room to pick up his violin. He loved his violin. Sherlock Holmes was estranged from emotions almost all the time but he loved his violin. He loved the deep, rich tones it made and all of the different voices that he could coax out of it. He poured emotion into it whenever he played, emotion that never showed at any other time. His violin was old, ancient in fact. When he had been eight, a mere month after his parents had died, he had seen the instrument in a pawn shop. It was in an old case and lay on a shelf, shoved to the back, forgotten. He had pulled it off, set it on the floor and pulled it out of its case. The body of it was old, clearly damaged with scratches, splintering and water, but as he held it something felt right about the weight on his shoulder, about resting his chin on it. He adjusted it into a more guitar like position and began plucking the strings lightly, almost noiselessly, taking great care with the instrument. He experimented with it for a while, listening to each note carefully, trying to figure out fingerlings by ear. Eventually, probably half an hour later, the slight Asian woman who owned the store discovered Sherlock, who was still completely immersed in the violin. She had began to make a round of the entire store specifically because she had seen the young boy enter, unaccompanied. It was best to make sure that he wasn't getting into mischief of any kind. She rounded the corner and stopped, watching the boy fiddle with the violin with the greatest intensity possible in his eyes. Sherlock took no notice of her presence, far to occupied to be aware. She watched him for several minutes before making up her mind and stepping forwards."

" Hello." She greeted. She spoke English like a native, but still had a prominent Eastern accent. Sherlocks head snapped up.

" Hello." He replied quietly.

" Are you enjoying the violin?" She asked. Sherlock nodded feverishly.

" Yes, ma'am." He answered rather awkwardly, not really knowing what to do with himself.

" Would you like to take it home?"

" I haven't got any money." He told her.

" Say that money wasn't an issue. What then?" She asked.

" Yes." Came the short reply.

" If you want it, you can have it." She offered. Sherlock stared at her.

" You're serious?" He asked. The woman motioned towards the violin.

" Look at it. It is old, torn up, damaged. No one will buy it. I would like to see it go to a good home. Can you promise that?"

" Of course!"

" Then it is yours."

Sherlock stood up excitedly and thanked the shop keeper for at least a minute and a half, one of his even then rare displays of emotion taking place. She laughed and smiled at how happy she had made the boy with the worn violin. Eventually, after he had calmed down, Sherlock put the violin back in the case, taking great care in every motion as to not to bump it on anything. He thanked the kind lady once again and headed out and towards the flat, the pouring down rain not bothering him in the slightest, a grin plastered on his face. He reached 221b and let himself in. Sherlock entered his room and opened up the case again, looking at the violin snapped out of it. He realized that he had no idea how to play; He needed instruction. Sherlock closed up the case again and left the flat, making his way to the library. He reached it a while later and began to search for books about the violin. He stayed at the library for hours absorbing all the knowledge he could. He read about its history, how it worked, the different parts of it, music theory and ended up checking out several method books with some basic music to practice when the library finally kicked him out at closing time. He returned home, Mycroft was still out. And he practiced. And practiced. And practiced some more. He practiced until Mycroft returned several hours later and only then did he stop. He repeated these steps the next day until soon it became his habit. He discovered that he played the violin very easily and was able to become completely engaged in it, blocking everything else out, making his hours long practice sessions feel as if they were mere minutes instead. A few days after the violin came into his possession Mycroft, in one of his drunken hazes, asked Sherlock where he had gotten his hands on a violin. Sherlock told him that a lady at the pawn shop had given it to him. His brother was satisfied and never inquired about it again. When Sherlock had entered secondary school he had been ecstatic to discover that the school had a band. The music was ridiculously easy but he enjoyed it nevertheless. It was the only class he enjoyed. The only one he didn't find boring. The violin had become his obsession, and it still was. Sherlock reached the band room, grabbed his instrument, and began the long walk home, where he would find another way of distracting himself.

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**Go ahead, tell me what you think! I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed, you people are awesome. I'll happily adopt your plot bunnies if you would leave me some! Anyways have a great day and DFTBA! Next chapter will be posted tomorrow.**


	16. Chapter 16

**New chapter! I think that fact was pretty obvious but you know...still... Anyways! Onto the chapter! After this: Disclaimer- Now, just to make this clear, if I actually owned Sherlock then Wholock would be an actual series. But I don't, so it's not. We could always ask Moffat. That might work...,**

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John exited his classroom at the end of the day to head over to the main office. He'd had a good day, his classes hadn't complained too much about their tests after the initial groan, and for the most part they had kept quiet and done their work. He'd really been very productive. He reached the office and gave Alice his papers before saying good bye to her. He started towards his car but had a second thought. The band teacher. He hadn't met him yet. Why not, John asked himself. He changed directions and was soon in the breeze way which contained the choir and band rooms. He let himself in. The band instructor was siting in a chair in the back, playing a piece on his trombone. John watched him, awestruck with his skill with the instrument. After several minutes of this the other man saw John ou of the corner of his eye apparently and set his trombone down.

" Hello. Can I help you?" He asked. John shook his head.

" No, it's just I'm new here and I don't believe that we've met properly yet."

The man stood up from his chair and walked over to John to shake his hand.

" Your name?" John inquired.

" Samuel Dimmock." He introduced himself. " People tend to just call me Dimmock though, not sure why. You would be?"

" John. John Watson."

" Hello then, John. What are you teaching?"

" Year eleven science." John responded. He looked over Dimmocks shoulder, back to where he had been sitting before John came in. " You're pretty amazing at that trombone." He noted.

" Been playing it since I was ten. Picked it up one day and never really put it down." He smiled at John, who returned the grin.

" Same thing here, mate, but with chemicals." Said John.

" So what did you come down here for?" Dimmock asked. John shrugged.

" Just figured I'd get acquainted, that's all." He told Dimmock; who nodded. " So what's your band working on?" He asked, scanning the band room.

" Well, for year eleven we're working on a few marches. We're got this one piece though, called 'The Game Is On', weird name for a performance concert piece, I know, but it's amazing." He paused for a breath but contained himself. " Sorry, I tend to do that." He admitted. John smiled.

" Know the feeling. Get asked a simple question about chemistry and suddenly I'm explaining an entire course on quantum mechanics, just like that." He examined his watch. " Listen, I'd love to talk more but I've got to go. See you later, Sam."'He extended his hand once more for a hand shake. The two exchanged a quick good bye and then John left the band room. He reached his car and got in. John started the car and began the drive home, where he hoped to spend some of the night with Sarah, relaxing. He arrived at the flat almost twenty minutes later and entered. On the table he found a note.

' Gone out for drinks with a few friends. Won't be back till later - Sarah.'

So John was alone for the night. He crumpled up the paper and put it in his pocket before collapsing on the sofa for a few minutes of rest. He formulated a list of things he needed to do in his mind and forced himself to get up.

Laundry. He got some of his clothes off the floor and started a load.

Dishes. He filled the sink partly with water and scrubbed them until they were clean.

He picked up his room a bit, it was shamefully messy for a grown man. After he was done with those he sat down to do some things from work. He sorted through some papers and graded the tests he had given that day. As a whole his classes seen where he expected them to be at year eleven. His students seemed like they were up to learning so it shouldnt be to difficult to get them up to speed. He checked the time and discovered that it was nine thirty. He should probably be getting to bed soon. John ran his hands through his hair and stood up. He changed into a pair of shorts and brushed his teeth before laying down in bed and drifting into sleep.

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**Things happen next chapter! Sherlock! Mycroft! Molly! Stuff in general! So woo hoo for that. Please leave a review! Oh and thanks to everyone who did leave reviews, you inspire and motivate me to write! Ideas, suggestions, anything is welcome! Have a great day and DFTBA! (you wonderful people never do. You're probably just naturally awesome...)**


	17. Chapter 17

***Brilliantly witty note that includes a clever disclaimer alongside it***

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Sherlock turned the knob to 221b Baker Street and entered the flat.

" Ah, Sherlock."

Sherlocks head shot towards the direction that the voice had come from. Mycroft sat in a chair in the sitting room. Sherlock walked over to where his brother resided and stood about ten feet away from him.

" Where have you been, brother dear?" He asked sarcasticly, though he was partly curious.

" Oh, here and there. You know." Mycroft replied, his words slurring just enough to let Sherlock know that he was still drunk. He turned away in disgust.

" I'll be in my room, should my assistance be required." He told his brother coldly, a hard edge to his voice. He entered his room and set his violin down. Mycroft was here so he couldn't cut or use cocaine. That left violin. He pulled it out and began playing a few warm up scales, letting the gentle tone take him someplace far away from 221b. Ten minutes passed and Sherlock was in the middle of the first chair violin part of 'The Game Is On' when Mycroft burst into his room.

"'What the bloody hell are you doing?!" He asked angrily, rubbing his temples.

" Why don't you make a deduction, Mycroft?" Replied Sherlock, setting his violin down.

" Stop playing your fucking violin. Just- I don't care, go somewhere, do something. Get out." Mycroft demanded. Sherlock put his violin away in its case, picked it up, and threw his backpack over his shoulder.

" Fine." He snarled as he pushed past his brother forcefully. He stalked towards the door and opened the door to exit.

" You'll be gone and drunk off your ass by tomorrow anyways!" He yelled, slamming the door shut. He walked several streets and then sat down, leaning against a telephone pole, head sunk against his chest. He sat like that for some time. God damn Mycroft and his God damn drinking. He was almost never home and when he was he was always drunk. Mycroft didn't care about Sherlock, fuck, he didn't even try to act like he cared. He came home drunk every once and a while and yelled at Sherlock, mocked him for being the total outcast he was. Sherlock didn't have the faintest clue of what his job was. Whatever he did, it probably wasn't legal. Rain began to fall and Sherlock stood up, stretching himself out. He picked up his violin and began to walk. Where, he didn't know. He just knew that he needed to get as far away from Mycroft and 221b as possible. Sherlock walked for a long time and eventually found himself in the nicer part of town. The part where everybody had a home to call their own, where drugs and alcohol wern't a problem. Where people's biggest worry was deciding what they would have for dinner that night. Sherlock didn't belong there, but he kept walking anyways, trying to dodge the strange looks that people kept shooting him. He took a right and continued.

" Sherlock! Hey, Sherlock!" A voice shouted. Female, he noticed. Sherlock spun around in time to see someone walk out of a house and run up to him. Molly Hooper he recognized. She was in his year and he had her in the majority of his classes.

" What are you up to, Sherlock?" She asked.

"...None of your business."He replied. Molly deflated a bit, she had been hoping for more. She rather liked Sherlock, perhaps even to the point of having a crush on him.

" Come on, Sherlock-" She was cut off by Sherlock suddenly stopping and glaring at her.

" I said it was none of your buisness, did I not, Molly Hooper?!" He asked angrily. Molly raised an eye brow very slightly.

" Is there something wrong?" She asked, genuinely curious.

" Everything is fine." Sherlock spat.

" ... Cause it doesn't sound like you're fine." She dared to venture.

" I'm fine." He snarled. " Now what the hell do you want?!" Why couldn't people see that he didn't want their company? Christ, it wasn't that difficult to pick up on. Molly shrank away some at Sherlocks unprecedented abruptness.

" I just- Nothing." She lied. Molly turned her back on Sherlock and returned to her home. Sherlock, being Sherlock, was unfazed by this and continued his walk. Mycroft was still at the flat and would remain there until the next day, so Sherlock was brainstorming for possible places to sleep. He sure as hell wasn't going back to 221b. He didn't have an extra change of clothes in his backpack and it would most likely continue to rain hard the entire night meaning that he would need to find a place to sleep soon. His mind wandered through the city as he tried to find a suitable area. After several minutes Sherlock was left with two places; He could either sleep at the library which was a several mile walk in the cold, pouring rain, or he could stay at St. Bards, sleeping underneath a roof covered section of the school. If he stayed there he would have a shorter journey and would not have to make the walk to school the next morning. St. Bards it was.

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**Thanks for all the reviews yesterday! Kirkland- Your ideas arn't stupid. Keep them coming. I asked for ideas and you answered, I'm certainly not going to complain. Back to everyone- There will be more Molly. More ideas for this please. I've got one or two chapters with her in them but I need ideas on what her role should be. Thank all of you guys for reading this! Have a great day and DFTBA! By the way, 4000 views! You guys are wonderful!**


	18. Chapter 18

**Sorry about the late update, I had to go and be a 'Productive and responsible member of society'. Anyways here's the new update. Disclaimer- if you've been paying any attention what so ever for the last 18 chapters, I think that you might have picked up on the fact that I don't own Sherlock. But in case you haven't I'll say it again. I don't own Sherlock.**

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About a half hour later Sherlock arrived at the school. Checking around to make sure that none of the staff was still hanging about, Sherlock made his way over to the breeze way that contained the band and choir room. This, he decided, would be where he slept. Not that he actually planned on sleeping. He wasn't particularly tired and even if he was, he didn't trust the area enough fall asleep completely unguarded. He set his backpack and violin down and stretched out comfortably on the hard cement ground. Sherlock allowed himself to sit like that for a while, contemplating over matters with Mycroft before he became bored and had to find something to do. He only had his book of experiments and violin with him. His practice session had been rudely interrupted by Mycroft, but now was the perfect time to continue. He pulled the violin out of its battered leather case and tighter up he strings on the bow. He had music with him but decided against playing it, chosing to freestyle compose instead. He drew be bow across the strings lightly and with great care. F, G, Ab he thought to himself. He then transferred to a Eb into an F natural. It was a piece he had been toying with in his mind for quite some time. He wished momentarily that he had some blank sheet paper to write it down on. But he didn't, so he simply continued to play, running parts over and over until he had them exactly the way they had sounded in his mind and committed to memory. He spent hours running the bow up and down the strings of the instrument. The violin, as usual, did not ever lead him to boredom and he continued to play late into the night and then early into the morning. Finally, at about six o'clock, the sun began to rise. The rain continued to fall and clouds still covered the sky, but a bit of warmth was able to get through. Sherlock, recognizing that teachers would soon be arriving, slowly put away his violin, still humming the tune he had been working on for so many hours. He stood up and stretched out, placing his hands behind his head, pacing the length of the breeze way. He returned to his things a few minutes later and stood by the band door, doing his best to wait patiently. Dimmock, the band director usually showed up no later that 6:10. He would let in Sherlock, who had always been waiting for anytime between ten minutes and half an hour into the band room where he put his things away and headed off to the library. Several minutes later Sherlock heard the reliable sound of Dimmock pulling his car into a spot out side and turning it off. He picked up his things and no more than thirty seconds later was met by Dimmock who unlocked both of the heavy metal double doors. Sherlock entered the room and set his violin in one of the many instrument cages that lined the room. Dimmock, who was in his office repairing an instrument, turned his gaze from the work he was doing to Sherlock.

" How are you doing, Sherlock?" He asked.

" Fine." Sherlock answered. Dimmock was the one teacher in the school, now with he possible exception of John, that Sherlock could actually get through half a conversation with. Samuel exited his office and grabbed a few papers that were resting ontop of the piano. Sherlock stood up from his squatting position and walked over next to Dimmock, peering over his shoulder at the papers. The band instructor passed off the papers to Sherlock who accepted them wordlessly.

" Thought you might want to play these. I think you could pull it off if you practiced it bit. Do you want them?"

Sherlock studied the piece for a few seconds. The song was called Hologram, its composer Murray Gold. The student gave a nod and looked up at Dimmock. He placed the music in his bag, taking great care not to bend it. Sherlock threw his backpack over his shoulder and turned towards the door.

" Thanks, Samuel." He said as he opened one of the doors.

" That's Dimmock to you!" Sam replied, trying to keep his student in check. But Sherlock was already gone.

oOo

Sherlock wandered the hallways of the school, having finally given in and entered, needing the warmth that the interior provided. Sherlock eventually made his way to the library, wanting to stay inside but also wanting to be alone. Even when people began to arrive and the hallways became crowded, he was always the only one in the library before school began. Sherlock arrived at the shelves he had been looking for and grabbed a chemistry text book that he and been working through the past few days. As he sat down a sudden thought occurred to him. John. The last few days John had seen him in the library. Yesterday John had come specifically to check if Sherlock was there. Chances were that he would come again today. Sherlock cringed slightly at this. He would have to see John in class and would have to talk to him during lunch, but he didn't want to make contact a moment before he had to. After all, with the conversation that the two had yesterday, with all the details that Sherlock had let slip, if John found him he might try to pry more information out. And he would probably get it, Sherlock thought wryly to himself. He has given John at least a hint about Mycroft, and he had probably figured out a few more things by now. He hadn't even been under any stress of pressure the day before, but now, after his run in with Mycroft he was angry and a bit shaken. It would make him more liable to mistakes. With a sigh Sherlock closed his book and stood up, pushing his chair in at the same time. He still had almost 45 minutes until his first class, he may as well spend it reading his book. He walked over to the librarys check out counter. The librarian heard the slight noise caused by this, looked up, saw Sherlock and came up to meet him. She checked out his book and Sherlock left the library wordlessly. He proceeded to make his way around to the back of the school, another place he could often be found as it was usually quiet and almost never occupied by anyone other than himself. He sat down against a wall, pulled out his book, and began reading.

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**Thanks to everyone who read/reviewed yesterday and today! I can't think of any more ways to express how awesome you are at this exact moment, but you are! Ideas and suggestions are welcome! If you've got any ideas about Molly or Dimmock or Mycroft or anyone really, tell me! I'm on chapter 22 so I'm not sure when they would happen but chances are that they will happen! Thanks for reading this, have a wonderful night-day and DFTBA!**


	19. Chapter 19

**I. Bet. That. You. Are. Reading. This. With. Dramatic. Pauses. In. Between. And now you're reading it normally. Isn't it terrible. The. Way. I. Can manipulate your. Mind? That was completly pointless and served. No. Purpose. In. Case you were. Wondering. Disclaimer- I don't. Own Sherlock. (I'll cut it out now.)**

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John pulled his car into the schools parking lot. He turned off the engine and rubbed his eyes tiredly. He sat like that for a few moments before getting himself up and grab his things. He began his daily trip to he office, where Alice didn't have any papers for him. He then checked the library where he knew he could find Sherlock. Except that when he looked in on the library Sherlock wasn't there. John stood there for a moment and then opened the door to the library. He walked inside and preformed a round of the place, checking corners. Sherlock simply wasn't there. John shrugged his shoulders, dismissing Sherlocks absence. It was nothing to worry about, he was probably hanging about some other part of he school or he was just later than normal in showing up. Or he might be avoiding me, John thought. Sherlock had obviously been uncomfortable during the tail end of their conversation yesterday. He probably wanted to avoid John, and thus any ensuing awkwardness untill the last possible moment: meaning first period. John turned and left the library, closing the door softly as to not disturb the perfect silence, and made his back to he classroom.

oOo

_40ish minutes later_

John checked the time on his watch, placing the book he had been reading on his desk. 6:53. Students would be arriving soon. He got up from his desk and walked over to the door. He unlocked it and opened it, only to have none other than Sherlock Holmes run into him. John chuckled slightly at the suddenness of the encounter.

" Hey, Sherlock." He greeted. Sherlock kept his gaze on the ground and entered the classroom. As he headed towards his seat John was able to make out a very faint acknowledgment.

" Hello, John."

John waited for more but to no avail. Up to him again.

" You look cold." He noticed as he began to write up part of the lesson plan for the day on his chalkboard. A few long seconds of silence later Sherlock gave his reply.

" A bit."

John smiled slightly to himself, maybe it wouldn't be so hard to get Sherlock to talk today. John motioned towards the now half way full chalkboard.

" What do you know about the subject today ,Sherlock?" He asked.

" What's the subject, John?"

" Mr. Watson." John reminded him. " But anyways, we're starting chemistry today. So. What do you know?" Prompted John.

" You saw my notebook yesterday. My experiments. What do you think, Jo- Mr. Watson?"

John laughed. " Come on, Sherlock, don't try to pass off those experiments as ones that you made up. I had a hard time grasping the concepts, there's no way you have those down. And the experiments in the notebook, there's no way you can be doing them. How old are you?"

" Fifteen." Sherlock supplied.

" Exactly. There is no possible way that a fifteen year old can get their hands on half the chemicals in that book. And the level of understanding required is way beyond a high schooler. Just come clean, how much do you really know?"

Sherlock sighed. " The experiments are mine. The theories are mine. Feel free to not believe me, John, but I don't really care."

John studied Sherlock for a moment. He seemed completely relaxed, if a little agitated. Pretty confident then. Alright, thought John, I'll ask him some things. He glanced up at the clock. 6:55. Maybe two more minutes before other kids started showing up. He would have to make this quick. John stopped writing and turned towards Sherlock.

" Would you mind if I asked you some questions, Sherlock?"

" No.

" Okay then. Here we go. Element for the chemical symbol of Pa?"

" Protactinium."

" Atomic weight of Hydrogen?"

" Which isotope?"

" All of them."

" Normal, one Amu. Deuterium, two Amus. Tritium, three Amus. Point zero two margin of error."

" Element 76?"

" Osmium."

" S orbital maximum containment?"

" Two electrons."

" Make up of a proton?"

" Two up quarks, one down quark."

" Electronegitivity of Chlorine?"

" Three point seven."

" Common name for Sodium Hypochlorite?"

" Bleach."

" Chemical make up of Sulfuric acid?"

" H2SO4."

" Definition of a metal."

" A substance which can replace the hydrogen atom in an acid."

"..." John said nothing for a moment.

" Do you believe me now, John?" Sherlock asked.

" I- Yes." John replied. " But I'm confused now, your test, why didn't you do them? They would have been ridiculously easy for you Sherlock." John told his student.

" That's the thing. They're easy. They're boring." Returned Sherlock.

" But it's your grades!" John exclaimed.

" I don't care though." Sherlock calmly replied. John gave a sort of laugh.

" But that was brilliant, Sherlock! Why would you not care if you put that much effort into leaning those things?!" John asked, clearly confused. Before Sherlock could reply, if he in fact was going to reply, the classroom door opened and a surge of students came in, followed seconds later by another group. John turned away from Sherlock and let the conversation drop. The first boy who entered, John recognized him as Anderson, the on who had shouted out about Sherlock on Monday, looked at the scene of Sherlock and John, who had undoubtedly alone before he had entered. He turned to the girl next to him, Sally Donnavan, and said something. Donnavan looked up at John and addressed him.

" Is the Freak doing his thing to you?" She asked. John was slightly taken aback by the straightforwardness of her question and by how openly she addressed Sherlock as 'The Freak' even to figures of authority. He stiffened slightly.

" No, Sally, Sherlock and I were having a conversation."

Sally laughed. " Freak doesn't do conversations, Mr. Watson." She told him. John fixed his gaze on Sally, eyes steely.

" You need to stop calling him Freak, Sally. His name is Sherlock." He told her coldly. The girl shrugged.

" I've never called him anything else. We've been together since first year. I don't see why I should start calling him by his name now." She turned to Sherlock, who was sitting out of earshot and raised her voice.

" You don't kind when we call you Freak, do you?" She asked. There was no answer for a moment. Anderson turned around as well. When this happened he replied.

" No." He answered, shaking his head before returning to the book he had been reading. John was slightly disbelieving of his students answer. He knew for a fact that it bothered Sherlock. But if Sherlock was denying it then there was really nothing that he could do.

" Well could you at least try?" He asked. Sally shrugged again.

" Maybe." She told him, in a tone that told John she would make no effort whatsoever. Donnavan and Anderson made their way to the seats they sat in, leaving John alone up front. Several minutes later after the last few kids had trickled in John started class.

" Okay. Everybody quiet!... Thank you. So I've graded a your test from yesterday. And you're almost all behind where I expected you to be in year eleven. So starting today we're getting a lot more serious. Is that clear?"

Various versions of 'yes' were spoke.

" Alright then. So today we'll be starting a chemistry unit. Everybody is aware of what chemistry deals with?"

Everyone nodded their head.

" Would you give us a definition, Molly? In your own words please." Requested John. Molly Hooper, he had noticed, was one of the quietest students in his class. She had scored well on her test, earning a solid A. She didn't speak much and didn't attract attention to herself, but took notes diligently and paid attention to every word John said.

" The science of chemical reactions and changes right?"

John nodded. " Good." He told her. He addressed his entire class. " Does anyone know the basis of chemistry? It's foundation, how it works?"

Several hand were raised, if somewhat uncertainly. John pointed to a student in the middle row.

" Micheal, go ahead." He invited.

" Protons?" Micheal guessed.

" No."

The few hands that had been up retracted nervously.

" No one? Come on you guys." John coaxed. No one responded.

" Ask Sherlock, he'll know." Molly offered. John nodded and looked to Sherlock, whose head had turned to Molly when she spoke about him. He returned to his normal position, shaking off his surprise.

" Electrons. The filling of electron orbital shells around an atom." He answrered before falling back into silence.

" Correct. Now if we look at this diagram-"

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**See? Arn't chapters getting significantly longer? It's all because of the reviews! They really do make short chapters magicly longer! Anyways thanks for reading. Tell me what you think! -Daily Plead- Ideas, suggestions, anything! Please leave a review on your way out! Have a great day and DFTBA!**


	20. Chapter 20

I have a reason for why this has been posted so late in the night. I was watching My Little Pony. It's amazing. I'm not even kidding. Expect several deep one shots about the fascinating world of ponies in the near future. I'm only half joking. I do have a slightly more legit excuse than that though. I was typing it up and just after I completed the chapter the Internet decided to turn itself off for a few minutes before I had saved, making me write the entire thing again. AND I had to go to TKD before I could retype it. So there. Disclaimer- *Sorts through every officialish looking document I own* Nope, the rights to Sherlock do not appear to be here.

* * *

" Now if we look at this diagram here-"

Sherlock stopped paying attention, he didn't need to, he already knew everything that would be taught. His thoughts turned to something else. Molly. Molly Hooper.

" Ask Sherlock." She had said. " He'll know." She had assured. But be didn't know. What was the purpose of her saying that? Was it a mockery? No, that didn't seem right, she wasn't the type who would do that sort of sort of thing. The two younger siblings -one brother, one sister- that Sherlock had deduced that she lived with had made her far to caring to do anything along those lines. So what was it then? A complement? It seemed more than likely. But why? He remembered back to the day before. He had just been walking through her neighborhood. And yet she had come out specifically to talk with Sherlock. She had asked him what he was doing. She had asked him if anything was wrong and had tried several times to get him to talk. She hasn't exploded or insulted him when he had turned her away. Thinking back to years past, even when he had been a year six, he could remember incidents like that one. Someone had gotten shoved up against Sherlock causing him to drop his things, Molly had not hesitated to help, introducing herself all the while. During year seven band Molly, who played flute, had invited Sherlock to play a duet with her. He had complied and everyday after school for a week the two had practiced the piece to the point of perfection. Sherlock had not found the music terribly difficult, he had already been playing the violin for years. Molly on the over hand, who had only been playing flute for a year and a half had been extremely proud of the pairs work and had managed to convince their band instructor to let them play the duet to the audience during the bands winter concert. In eighth grade Molly had recommended Sherlock for an advanced placement course, stating that he was the proper genius o the school. He hadn't gotten in of course. Even back then his grades had been solid F's with the exception of band. Despite Molly's attempt Sherlock had never been considered for the program since the enrollment process was based on marks. Ninth year Molly had seeked out Sherlock for help with her science homework. Anyone else he would have turned away but Molly was different. She was the closest thing he had to a friend. Not that he wanted friends but still. He had accepted her request for help, reasoning with himself that he was not doing it out of sentiment but rather that it might help him to stay off cocaine. Their slightly unusual relationship lasted for several weeks until Molly had brought her grade up to a solid A. When they were in year ten Sherlock had grown more distant to Molly but this had not dampened her attempts to talk to him. She would approach him in the hall sometimes during passing period or would catch him after school on the band room on occasion. The two would exchange a few sentences before Sherlock would take the initiative to leave. Sherlock took all the incidents into consideration and let his theories run themselves out while John continued the lesson. After a while he was left with only one possibility. Molly Hooper liked him. Why though? Nobody else did, what was so different about Molly? What about Sherlock pulled her in? He didn't know. He wanted to know, but he didn't. From now on Sherlock Holmes would keep a closer eye on Molly Hooper.

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Toni Stark- I thought I had implied this but Sherlock does know the material, he just doesn't do it because it bores him. In one or two more chapters this is made more explicitly clear. To the rest of you Internet wanderers! Thanks for all the reviews, they make me unreasonably happy! More please! Same thing as every other time, ideas, suggestions anything! It doesn't matter how strange, half-baked or off beat from the rest of the story they are I will love them and you will be forever revered! Don't worry, I have not forgotten about Lestrade or his role, they just have no occurred yet. I've got this whole thing planned out in my head I just need to write it down on paper and such things. Until next time (meaning tomorrow when the next chapter will be posted) have a great night and DFTBA!


	21. Chapter 21

**I apologize that I didn't update yesterday. I got home from school and didn't feel like fighting with my ipod for 45 minutes to get this typed up and spell checked. And then when i did feel like it, I was distracted by Doctor Who. So I biked down top the library today and typed this up. computers are freaking magical. This chapter would have taken me twice as long to type if I had to do it on my ipod. So praise the ever merciful lord for public computers! Hope you enjoy the chapter! Disclaimer- If I owned Sherlock I would have discovered how much faster computers are a long time ago because I would have been typing up the script to Sherlock on a computer.**

* * *

The bell rang and John finished up class. The usual students raced out the door, leaving Sherlock in his normal position, behind everyone else.

" Sherlock!" John called. The student looked at John who beckoned him over. Sherlock walked over to where John stood.

" What is it?" He asked.

" Lunch. Don't forget." John reminded him.

" I won't." Was the short response.

" And, Sherlock- try, please try to do your work today." He suggested. Sherlock stared at him.

" Maybe not get in a yelling match with Swany? That would be good."

Sherlock gave a slow nod and JOhn mentally let out a sigh of relief.

" I can go now?" Sherlock asked.

" Yes, you can go. I'll see you later."

Sherlock left just as the next class came in. John wondered for a short moment if Sherlock really would try to do his work today. He knew that Sherlock was fully capable of doing it, just that he chose not to. John erased some of the work on the board that he had done with his previous class. Maybe all Sherlock needed was a push. Someone who believed in him. If no one else was willing to be that person, then maybe John would step up. He turned around to his students and class began.

oOo

Sherlock walked quietly and efficiently. His next class was band so he didn't particularly want to miss it, or be late. He sped up his pace a bit and arrived at the band room, pretty much on time and got out his violin. He warmed up for a few minutes before Dimmock took his place on the conductors stand, signaling for silence. And so second period began for Sherlock.

oOo

As the band played through 'The Game Is On', Sherlocks thoughts wandered to John. He had made a specific point to tell Sherlock to try to not get in a yelling match with Swany? Why though? It was his fourth day at this school., he barely knew Sherlock. What did he care? Sherlock turned his attention back to the music in front of him, shaking off his confusion about John, about Molly, confusion in general. He was getting a lot of that today. He had questions, he wasn't exactly sure of everything that was happening. Sherlock knew a few things though. He didn't like it. And he would find the answers to his questions.

oOo

Second period ended and John checked his watch as his students left the room. Dimmock probably let the band kids out a bit early so they could get to their classes across the school on time, meaning that Sherlock was most likely in Swanys room by now. John wasn't entirly sure what the situation between Sherlock and George was, but it obviously wasn't good. He genuinely hoped that Sherlock would heed his advice and to a certain degree believed that he might. another part of him doubted it. He was a new teacher. He didn't know Sherlock. Sherlock apparently didn't care what other people thought of him so he had no real incentive to do his work pr not argue. He trusted John some, but it may have not been enough to listen to what he had to say. It was no use speculating about what might happen though, he would find out for sure later. Just one more class.

oOo

Sherlock had planned on doing his work in Swanys class. He had really planned to try. And to a degree he did. He had completed the entry task and had done a few of the problems on a work sheet before he had declared it as hopelessly dull. George had been eyeing him the entire time, clearly baffled by Sherlocks sudden change in behavior. Swany passed out a test over the material that the class had been working on for the last few weeks. He passed it out 25 minutes into class, ten minutes past when Sherlocks interest had ended. He never participated in test anyways. He just didn't see the point. Why should they waste time, that could be used learning new material, on proving that they could do the thing that they had been praticing for weeks? When someone could give him a proper answer to that, maybe he would attempt them. And so at 25 minutes past the hour Sherlock fell back into his normal routine of not doing his work. And when the hour ended and people were handing in their test, Sherlock took his spot in the back of the class. Sherlock approached George who looked at him somewhat hopefully, obviously thinking that Sherlocks moderately productive start had lasted all throughout class. Sherlock handed him the test and Swanys face fell.

" Congratulations, Sherlock. Another F to help your already wonderful grade in this class." George told him, sarcasm dripping from his words. Sherlock stiffened.

" I told you, I don't see the point."

" And I said that I don't care if you don't see the point, Sherlock!" Swany replied, raising his voice. " Do your bloody work!"

" Why?"

" I told you yesterday, I'm not telling you again!"

" ...I've got reasons for not doing my work."

" I'm sure you've got fantastic reasons. You're fifteen, you must have so much angst in your life."

" Shut up." Sherlock snapped. George looked up at him.

" I'm sorry?" He asked, clearly surprised.

" I said shut up." Sherlock answered, his voice unsteady with anger. George stood up and confronted Sherlock.

" I will not be spoken to in that way." He hissed.

" It would appear that you already have been." Sherlock replied in the same tone.

" Apologize. Now." George demanded. Sherlock turned away and started to exit the classroom.

" Sherlock! Come back here!" Swany yelled. Sherlock left wordlessly.

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**So, what did you think? I believe that you should be able to predict what happens next chapter but I'm not entirely sure so I won't give anything away here. To those of you worrying, this will NOT become a Sherlolly story. If you have any ideas about anything leave them in a review or PM me. Pinlie, I will still use your idea about ASiP, I promise I haven't forgotten about it. AHHHH! My time in the computer id almost done, I need to finish this up... Leave a review about anything, I. LOVE. REVIEWS! Have a great day and DFTBA! ( I think I'm almost to the part where Lestrade is introduced. *SQUEE*)**


	22. Chapter 22

**Thought I was going to the library today so I didn't type any of this before now. Which is the main reason it's posted late. Disclaimer- No. I don't own Sherlock.**

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Sherlock entered Johns classroom, closing the door behind him and plopping down into the seat across John. He checked his watch. 10:04. So only four minutes since the last class got out. Maybe Sherlock had listened to him after all.

" Hey, Sherlock." He greeted.

Sherlock grunted in reply.

" How did things with Swany go?"

Nothing. Damn it.

" Another argument?" John asked, exasperation showing in his voice. To his great surprise Sherlock began to chuckle.

" If it's worth anything there wasn't quite as much yelling today. I don't even think he raised his voice properly today." Sherlock informed John, humor evident in his voice. John took this as a good sign and responded as he reached under the table and rummaged through his bag some.

" What happened?" He asked. Sherlock leaned back in his chair.

" I tried to do my work, John. I really did. It was just so boring though. I couldn't focus on it. And then there was a test that I...umm..." He found this hard to say to John, as if he didn't like letting him down. " That I failed to complete. I turned it in. He said something, I responded and it all sort of escalated from there."

John nodded as he re-emerged from underneath the table. " That's...better. Definitely better than yesterday. You really tried though?"

" I tried, John." Sherlock assured him. John let a small smile onto his face, obviously pleased with Sherlock. He slid a sandwich and a Gateraid across the table. Sherlock caught them.

" What's this?"

" Your lunch." John answered. " I packed it this morning. Figured you wouldn't have one."

" Why did you pack me a lunch? Why would you bother?"

" Because I knew you didn't eat anything other than that sandwich yesterday. I know that you didn't eat breakfast this morning and I knew that you wouldn't have a lunch today." John told Sherlock, who eyed the lunch.

" I'm going to have to eat this aren't I?" He asked.

" Yes you are, Sherlock." Replied John, without a moments hesitation. He had knowm that the question would be asked. Sherlock sighed and began eating. The pair sat in silence for a few minutes.

" Are you ever gonna tell me who did that?" John asked, breaking the quiet.

" Did what? Asked Sherlock, setting his sandwich down.

" Who beat you up."

Sherlock looked at John uneasily. " Why do you want to know?"

" Because it's not right at its happening to you, Sherlock." John replied. " This isn't the first time either, is it?" He asked gently. Sherlock shook his head.

" No. Not at all. Been happening since- since-" He cleared his throat awkwardly. " Primary school. Actually. Been happening since primary school..." He trailed off. John studied him as he fiddled with his hands, shifting around in his chair.

" Why do they do it?" He inquired.

" Because I'm a freak, John. I know things about people that I shouldn't. Like on Monday when I did it to you. I deduce all these things and people don't like it."

" ...I'm sorry, Sherlock."

" Don't be sorry, John." Sherlock replied sharply. " I should keep my mouth shut. I deserve what they do to me." He said, absolute conviction in his voice.

" You don't deserve it, Sherlock. Don't you believe for a moment that you deserve it." John told him furiously. " Of other people feel the need to hurt you because of your-" He faltered.

" Deductions." Sherlock supplied.

" Deductions, then that's their problem. You don't need to stop doing them." John calmed some. " Did you ever figure out a way to explain those to me?" He asked. Sherlock nodded.

" I'll take you through it. Start with your phone. Looks t it, it's a nice phone. You've just graduated from university, paying off the student loans you've got. You wouldn't waste money on something like that. A gift then. The inscription on the back of the phone, Harry. W. Harry indicates a brother. It might be from your father but chances are against it, this is a young mans gadget. However it's from a sister, not a brother. You have a bracelet on. Woven with string. You would never buy such a thing as you're very masculine. It was given to you then. Not by a girl friend, you're not in a relationship. Who else would give you such a bracelet? Furthermore, from who would you actually wear said bracelet from? A sister is the only logical explanation. Knowing about ROTC was easy. The way you carry yourself says military training. You never been in the military properly though, to busy in university. You came from a relatively poor family, the car you drive, your bags make it obvious enough. You needed help to be able to pay for university do you enrolled in the ROTC. Simple deduction. Do you begin to see my process?" Sherlock finished. John nodded slowly. Once Sherlock took him through be steps everything seemed incredibly obvious.

" That's really something, Sherlock. That's- it's really cool. You've got quite the talent."

Sherlock shrugged. " Been doing it my entire life. Can't turn it off." He informed John. " Mycroft can do it too." He added quickly. " People always liked him though. He hasn't got Aspergers. He not a bloody sociopath." Sherlock said bitterly.

" You've got Aspergers?" John asked. Sherlock nodded.

" Yeah. I don't exactly go around making it know but most people figure I it out from the way I act. I don't talk to people. Haven't got any friends. My emotions are screwed up. I can see it all, the way people are feeling, I just can't really feel the same way my self. I don't know if that makes sence but it's outside the range of Aspergers, that's in the territory of the sociopath."

" Just so I'm sure, Aspergers, that like a high functioning form of Autism right?"

" Yes."

The conversation sputtered to a halt as Sherlock continued to work his way through his sandwich and John tried to process this new information.

" Back to my original question though, we sort of got off track, are you honing to tell me who beat you up? I've already got ideas, I just want to be sure."

Sherlock considered for a moment. If John wasn't entirely stupid then he had probably figured out who. And if he had an idea then he most likely wouldn't let the matter go until Sherlock have him a straight answer. Sherlock leaned forwards over the desk.

" You can't tell them I've told you." He said, an edge of desperation in his voice.

" I won't." John assured him. Sherlock hesitated for a fraction of a second.

" Anderson." He admitted. " Anderson and Donovan."

John leaned back in his chair. " I thought so. The way you act around them. They way they act around you. Made it pretty clear."

Sherlock said nothing and took a drink of his beverage. John worried for a moment that he might have gone too far in too little time.

" Are you alright talking about this?" He asked quickly.

" I'm fine." Sherlock immediately responded. " it's just new. No ones ever really talked with me like this before."

" Oh... Would you mind if I asked you some other things?"

" Depends what you ask..." Sherlock replied slowly.

" What if I asked about your brother?"

Sherlock inhaled sharply. "... I- If you really wanted to..." He said uncertainly.

" You know what I'm going to ask?"

Sherlock nodded. John took a deep breath, best to do this quickly.

" Your brother, Mycroft, is he an alcoholic?" He asked bluntly.

"... Yes." Was the quiet, hesitant reply. John let out a sigh.

" You can't tell anyone about that either." Sherlock told him. " We're fine. We don't need 'help'." He said forcefully.

" Is it dangerous, Sherlock? Just tell me, is Mycrofts drinking dangerous to you?"

" No." Sherlock responded quickly.

" Okay. I'm held to confidence rules. I can't tell anyone what you've said to me unless you want me to, so long as it doesn't pose a threat to you."

" Which it doesn't." Sherlock reminded him. He finished his sandwich and drained the rest of his drink before standing up. " I should be going. I've got a library book I need to return."

It was obvious enough that Sherlock simply wanted to get away from John but he decided to let it slide.

" Alright. Same thing again tomorrow."

Sherlock nodded his agreement and threw away his bottle. He made his way to the door to exit.

" See you later, John."

And he was gone.

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**Lily- thanks for the review and the idea! I've already had the John finding out scene planned for quite a while, but I'd never considered the second part... Maybe... **

**Everyone- thanks for reading and reviewing, it makes my day.**

**IYN- because I'd misspell your name. Also thank you for the idea, it's promising and I quite like it! **

**Anywho, I hope you enjoyed! Tell me what you think in a review or PM me! I just realized... This is 22. I have 24 written out... I have to get my mind into gear tonight, write out like four chapters... Either way have a great day and DFTBA!**


	23. Chapter 23

**Did you know that if you type in kndsfl;a into Google it'll come up with Sherlock stuff? I couldn't find what I was looking for no matter how I worded it so I ended up typing that in. And lo and behold, Sherlock stuff came up. Just thought I'd share that with you. Disclaimer- If I had money I would buy the rights to Sherlock. But I don't.**

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John finished his drink and threw the bottle in a bin. Ten minutes until forth period began. He got up and rewrote the lesson on the chalk board. For the time being John really was held to confidence rules, just as much as any school counselor you may come across. Even if he wasn't he wouldn't have planned on telling anyone, he didnt't want to betray Sherlock, John wanted to help him, not betray his trust. Help. He wanted to help an Autistic, sociopathic, genius fifteen year old whose parents were dead and had an alcoholic brother taking care of him. Well, he thought as he continued working on the board, things had certainly escalated from where they had been just on Monday. Three days ago John had thought Sherlock was a fraud, that he had simply been looked up on the Internet. Two days ago Sherlock had become of greater interest to him and he had learned about his experiments by way of Swany. Yesterday during lunch John had become more familiar with Sherlock, learning about some of his home life and today had been much of the same. He had become interested in Sherlock, invested even perhaps. It was a funny thing but it made John feel good that he was the person that Sherlock told things to. Sherlock had specificity said that he didn't make a point to tell people, and yet he had chosen to, no promting required, tell John explicitly that he had Aspergers. Same thing with his brother. He obviously didn't go around making the situation known but he had told John about it, completely of his own free will. John liked it, knowing that Sherlock knew, at least to a degree, that John was there for him if he ever needed to talk. John continued his writing. Anderson. He had thought so. At first it hadn't been clear but after Sherlocks reaction to Anderson this morning it was obvious. Sherlock hadn't been going to answer as Sally's question but as soon as Anderson had turned around to face him Sherlock had submitted and answered the question, giving a response that was favorable to Anderson and Donovan. He had been under pressure from the pair. Anderson and Donovan were obviously threatening to him. This was the problem that was conflicting with John. Anderson had hurt Sherlock. Apparently it happened quite often and had been going in for a long time. Even according to confidence rules John could report them. It was actually what he was supposed to do since it posed a threat to Sherlock. But Sherlock had trusted John, he had made John promise that he wouldn't tell. And he wasn't sure what he should do. Should he go by school regulations and report Anderson and Donovan? Or should he go by his promise to Sherlock and keep his silence? He finished writing on the board just as the next class began to come in. Lunch was over then. John would have to ponder his predicament later.

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**Thanks to you people for reading and reviewing. Also thanks to idea givers. You are awesome. Next chapter will be posted tomorrow. More ideas. Now. I need them. Thank you for your consideration. Have a great day and DFTBA!**


	24. Chapter 24

**7000 views. 104 reviews. You guys are awesome. Thank you so much! Disclaimer- It's a disclaimer. What do you think it says?**

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Sherlock left the classroom, not exactly sure as to sure he was headed, just knowing that he couldn't spend the next ten minutes in John's company. He didn't feel the way that he had expected to after speaking with John. He had thought that he would feel angry and disappointed in himself for letting John in. But rather he felt almost as if he was relieved. Like it was a good thing that he had trusted John with an insight of his life. Interesting. Perhaps his prediction had been correct. Maybe choosing to trust John was a positive step. He wandered around campus for a short time and eventually made his way to his English class. Would he attend today? John probably wanted him to anyways. That and attempt his work. And not get in a verbal fight with anyone in the process. He thought about it for a minute as he stood outside the door. Even if the class did bore him, (which it would) then he still had the book which he had checked out from the library this morning, which could occupy him untill the lesson ended. Sherlock made his decision. He would attend his English class today.

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**Right. About the ridiculous shortness of this chapter. This was originally supposed to be one part of a longer chapter. But I wanted to get it posted at a reasonable time so I went with this instead. Also I need time to stall so I can get some more of this written out.**

**Lily- You didn't seem like you were trying to force your ideas at all! Ive probably mentioned this before but John will find out about Sherlocks** **SH. **

**Pinlie- The Study in Pink part will be coming up. Jennifer Wilson was introduced in a later part of this chapter that will instead be posted tomorrow. I promise I have not forgotten. **

**Everyone- Thanks for everything! Lestrade will. Be. Introduced. Soon. I swear on... On... Murray Gold's soul I do. So there. A serious promise has been made. Have a great day and DFTBA!**


	25. Chapter 25

**Another short chapter. I decided to break what was originally 24 into 24, 25, and 26. It was really long and this will allow me more time to write rather then spend I all on typing. So the final part shall be up tomorrow. Disclaimer- I asked my friend if I owned Sherlock. they just sort of looked at me funny and walked away. Feel free to interpret that however you like. **

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Soon after Sherlock made his decision, lunch ended and other students joined him in waiting for their instructor to let them into the classroom. Several minutes later the door opened and the students flooded into the room. The teacher eyed Sherlock with apparent surprise.

" Sherlock." She noted dryly. " I wasn't aware that you attended this class."

Sherlock ignored this for the most part and took his seat, pulling out a notebook for the class. Barclay took attendance and started class. As Sherlock had predicted it was unbelievably dull. Nouns, pronouns, adverbs, adjectives... What was the point? It was about as useful to know as the fact that the Earth went around the Sun. Sherlock had been previously unaware of this and had only stumbled upon it as an example in one of the books he had been reading during one of the many hours he had spent down there. So what if they revolved around the sun? What difference did it make to anyone? Aside from astrophysicist perhaps. Either way it didn't make a penny's difference, nor would 'proper English', to his work. Not that he was working at the time. But he already knew what he would be in the future. A detective. A consulting detective to be precise. Being a detective just made sense to Sherlock. He would have cases that would keep him from being bored. It would require a lot of inference work, which Sherlock was brilliant at with his skills of deduction. He wouldn't be a regular detective though, he would be a consulting detective. The worlds first and only. Sherlock didn't think that he could stand to work on a police force. Everything would be to routine, the cases all alike. Rather, if he was a consulting detective, when the police were out of their depths, (which was always) they would consult him. This way he would get only interesting cases and would be able to do things his way, with out too many rules and regulations getting in his way. And there were the non official cases that he would get as well. He had no idea what they might include, but at least some of them were sure to interesting. He allowed himself to become immersed in his day dream. At least for the time being.

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**Much thanks to everyone who read and/or reviewed! You are awesome and make me want to write more! Leave ideas! Please! In a review or PM me! Either way, I don't care! Have a great day and DFTBA! (At this point I think the universe might break if I don't say that at the end of every chapter)**


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter has been posted! This is the final part of what was supposed to just be 24! Enjoy! Disclaimer- *Insert something vaugly disclaimer-like here***

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Class eventually ended and Sherlock packed up quickly and left the room. The day was almost over, he might as well attend History. Sherlock continued on his way to History class, for which the teacher was . He entered the classroom and sat down in his chair, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. How long had it been since he had slept? Five days? Six? A week? It was a possibility. He would have to give in tonight, sleep some, even if it was only a few hours. But for the time being he would have to stay awake...Ways to occupy himself, ways to occupy himself... Deductions! It was obvious! Deductions were excellent entertainment! Who though? Sherlock slowly scanned the room, searching for someone interesting. There. Jennifer Wilson. Not the best option but certainly good enough for now. Sherlock already had a bit of background knowledge about her. Her boyfriend was Jacob Flegal. But the way she was looking around suggested different. She was giving another boy, Austin Stigler, frequent eye contact, the two of them appearing to have an entire conversation with facial expressions. Ah. Sherlock drew a breath in and nodded to himself. It didn't take a genius to figure out what was going on between the two. A final glance at Jennifer confirmed his suspicions beyond doubt. Jennifer was cheating on Jacob. Obviously. She was the type for it. Clever enough to get away with it as well. Jacob was hopelessly in love with her, he simply wouldn't accept it, even if the evidence was staring him in the face. But to his credit it wasn't. She was clever, much to clever to make anything known to anyone. The only people who knew her for what she was were the three, no four boyfriends that she had dated simutaneously while with Jacob. The rest of the world may not have picked up on it but to Sherlock it was crystal clear. The jewelry she was wearing. Earrings, a bracelet, the ring she had on her pointer finger, and her necklace. Individually they ment nothing, together, everything. Every piece was so drasticly different style wise that it could not have been the same person who had given them all to her. She had been with Jacob all three years that she had been at so clearly she was dating the them off to he side. Sherlock sighed to himself. He had been hoping for a better deduction, something more interesting. People were all so alike though, so predictable and boring. He checked the clock. Fifty minutes of class left. Fifty. It was short enough that Sherlock knew he could last and yet at the same time it was long enough so that it would seem like an eternity to him. He reached into his backpack and pulled out some paper from a notebook and placed it on his desk. He scribbled down some ideas for experiments he'd had running around in his head. The effect of radiation on the eyes was one that he was particularly curious about. He would have to find a way to test it but that was besides the point, he would figure it out later. He had fifty minutes to plan, hypothesize, and speculate on his experiments. He only had to last for fifty minutes more. And then he was free.

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**Thanks for all the awesome reviews from last chapter! You guys rock! Ideas on what should happen with Jessica? Besides the obvious. Well, the obvious is welcome too. Anything! Thanks once more! Have a great day and DFTBA!**


	27. Chapter 27

**I refuse to go two days without posting a new chapter. So here you are. Disclaimer- You know the drill.**

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Forty nine minutes later, Barclay finished the lesson and gave her students permission to pack up so that they could leave on time. Sherlock packed up with unusual speed and was one of the first people out the door, needing the freedom that outside provided in contrast to the constriction of the classroom. He walked quickly and with purpose to the band room where he picked up his violin and left for 221b. Mycroft would be gone by the time he got home so Sherlock would have the place to himself for at least a couple of days. Wonderful. He would be able to sleep tonight and not have anything to worry about: he smiled slightly to himself and continued his walk home, looking forwards to the prospect of collapsing onto his bed and drifting off to sleep.

oOo

Students left Johns classroom, leaving him alone to pack up his things. He liked this part of the day, just after school had been let out. The classroom was quiet and John could relax more than he ever could while school was in session. He packed up his things and left the room, locking the door and turning off the lights just before slipping out. He made his daily trip to the office where there were no papers for him to pick up. He made his way to his car and soon arrived at the flat. John unlocked the door and let himself in. He put his bag into his room and plopped down on his bed. Several seconds later, and much to his surprise, Sarah appeared under his door frame. He sat up.

" Why are you here? I thought you worked until four at the hospital on Thursdays." He asked. Sarah shrugged.

" The place was pretty slow today so they let me off early." She explained. John stood up and walked over to his flatmate.

" Right. Well I was going to try and grab some sleep. We could do something later. If you wanted to that is."

Sarah nodded. " Yeah. That'd be great, John." She smiled. " I'll let you get on with it then. I've got a few things of my own I've got to get done. What time were you thinking?"

John considered for a moment. " Three thirty now..." He muttered mostly to himself. " I'll set my alarm for five thirty. That sound good? I'll be ready by six at the latest:"

" Good. I'll make sure to be ready by six. Talk to you later then." And with that Sarah left, closing the door on he way out. John smiled to himself and turned off the light. He lay down on his bed and set his alarm for five thirty before allowing himself to relax completely. Within five minutes he was asleep.

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**Im really not to sure about this chapter. So tell me what you think. If you were wondering what the obviously not so obvious thing is and want to know, Google Jennifer Wilson. If you don't, don't. I've just realized something. This story so far covers four days. Twenty seven chapters for four days. XD. Anyways, leave a review or idea or suggestion or all three on your way out! Have a great night and DFTBA!**


	28. Chapter 28

**New chapter! Again! I hope you enjoy. Disclaimer- I can't actually think of anything clever to put right here...soooo... I don't own Sherlock. **

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Sherlock arrived at Baker street and walked up to 211b. As he approached he reached towards the belt loop on his jeans where he kept his key to the flat. He couldn't find it. He checked again. The key wasn't there. Sherlocks breath caught.

" Shit..." He breathed. His mind reeled, trying to think of where the key might be. It was no use, there were to many possibilities. It could have fallen off yesterday. In the flat, on his walk after encountering Mycroft. It could have disappeared today. In the breezeway, the bandroom, walking down a hallway, any of the classrooms he had entered, ot on his walk home. Sherlock swore loudly and slammed his fist ion the door. Mycroft was gone and would remain so for at least a week, while Sherlock was locked out of 221b. With no way to get in. He stalked away furiously. What the hell was he supposed to do now? He walked for some time, unbelieving of his own stupidity. Eventually he manged to calm himself down and stopped, leaning against the the wall of an inner-city ally he had managed to direct himself to. He needed to figure out his options. It was nearly four O'clock , meaning that he had perhaps forty-five minutes before ir began top get dark. He took a quick inventory of everything he had with him. Violin. Backpack. His backpack contained his notebooks for experiments and his classes. Nothing else ion way of supplies. John would most probably bring him a lunch the next day so he would be fine food wise for the weekend. He was set with clothes as well. He had his jeans and long-sleeved shirt. So hypothetically living on the streets while waiting for Mycroft to return home was easily doable. It was simply a matter of putting it into practice. He wiped his face with the back of his hand, holding back a yawn. Sherlock had promised himself sleep and now he wouldn't be able to. He stopped leaning against the ally wall and grabbed his things. He would spend the night where he had before, in the breezeway of . Sherlock, using his through knowledge of the streets of London, soon enough found his was to . Once again he checked the campus, making sure that none of the staff was around. After he was positive that he was alone Sherlock made his spot in the breezeway, settling down for the night.

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**TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK. PLEASE. LESTRADE WILL BE INTRIODUCED SOON BUT I NEED IDEAS. SO IDEAS AND SUGGESTIONS AND REVIEWS. PLEASE. Thank you. I needed to get that out. Anyway new chapter shall be posted tomorrow. I think that it's quite a bit longer than this one. Sherlock and John in that one. So until tomorrow have a great day and DFTBA!**


	29. Chapter 29

**CHAPTER. HERE YOU GO. PRETTY PLEASE VOTE ON THE POLL. IT WOULD BE GREATLY APPRECIATED. OR JUST TELL ME IF YOU WANT JOHN AND SARAH TOGETHER. SERIOUSLY. I HOPE YOU ENJOY. Disclaimer- I own some of the Sherlock Holmes books. That's about it. **

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At exactly five-thirty, John awoke by the no means subtle beeping of his alarm clock. He rolled over to his side and turned it off, sitting up as he did so. He stood up and stretched out before turning the lights to his room on. He opened the door and walked to the bathroom to brush his teeth. His breath was stale from sleeping and he couldn't stand the taste of it in his mouth. He brushed his teeth and then tried to make his hair lie down a bit flatter. It half way worked and John shrugged to himself, good enough, he figured. He checked the time on his watch. Five-thirty seven. John walked around the flat and knocked on the door to Sarah's room.

" Come on in." She invited. John opened the door and slipped inside.

" I'm good to go whenever you are." He said. Sarah raised an eyebrow.

" You certainly got ready quickly." She remarked.

" I didn't really have to do much... Just brush my teeth, and comb my hair. That's about it..." John replied. An amused look came over Sarah's features.

" You wore your clothes to sleep in?" She asked, a note of humor in her voice. John opened his mouth and closed it again before answering.

" Well...Yes."

" With the shoes?"

John gazed down at his feet, looked back up at Sarah, and gave a sort of hopeless shrug. Sarah walked over to him and smiled, shaking her head.

" You dope." She teased playfully. The pair left her room and exited the flat.

" My car or yours?" Sarah asked when they got outside.

" I'll drive if you want." John offered.

" Sounds good."

They got into the car, where John proceeded to start the engine. After letting it warm up, he pulled out of the parking lot and into the streets. A thought hit him.

" I have no idea where we're going." He realized. " Where did you have in mind?"

" I'm a bit hungry. We could eat if you wanted."

" Sounds good. Pizza okay with you?" John asked. Sarah nodded.

" Sure."

" Alright then. Pizza it is."

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**I sort of lied a bit. It's a Sherlock and John chapter next time. I got my chaps mixed up. Stuff will happen soon. I promise, just bear with me. Ideas! IDEAS ARE WELCOME. ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING IS WELCOME. Thanks for all your support! Have a great day and DFTBA!**


	30. Chapter 30

**ANOTHER CHAPTER. ON DAY FOUR. SO THAT'S THIRTY CHAPTERS FOR FOUR DAYS. XD. DISCLAIMER- I SHALL MAKE TIME TO COME UP WITH CLEVER THINGS TO SAY HERE LATER. FOR NOW 'I DO NOT OWN SHERLOCK' SHALL SUFFICE.**

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Bored. Bored, bored, bored, bored, bored. BORED! Sherlock groaned audibly. It was too early to early to start playing violin without drawing attention to himself, so for the time being Sherlock was condoned to the depths of his own mind. Not that his mind was a terribly boring place, it was just so familiar to him. He stood up and paced the hallway, hands behind his back. He needed something to do desperately. A sudden thought hit him. It was too early to play violin with the hope that no one would hear him. But if he wanted people to hear him playing...street performing. Sherlock half smiled to himself. It was perfect. It would allow him to play, thus keeping him from being bored, and he might be able to earn a bit of money besides. Sherlock picked up his things and began his walk to the densely populated streets of London.

oOo

John pulled his car back into the parking lot. It was fairly late, he and Sarah had enjoyed themselves that night. They had eaten and then they had just walked. They had explored the streets of London until it was about nine o'clock and then they had returned to the car home. From there John had driven the both of them home. They got out and entered the flat, flipping on lights as they did so. John checked the time on his watch. Nine twenty-seven. He walked into his rom and changed into his nightly sleeping attire of shorts and whatever shirt it was that he already had on. He brushed his teeth and knocked on Sarah's door when he was finished.

" G'night, Sarah."

" You too, John." She responded. John smiled slightly at this and returned to his room, turning off the light so that he could sleep. Friday. Tomorrow was Friday. He was almost through with his first week of teaching at . And the. There would be two days of when he wouldn't see any of his students at all. Sherlock. He wondered about the situation with Sherlock. What he did during the weekend. It weighed on his mind a bit, knowing what he did about Sherlocks home and school life. He really needed to decide what to do about Anderson and Donovan. Maybe he would try to talk some sense into Sherlock the next day, get him to see reason. But for the time being what John needed was sleep. And sleep was exactly what he got.

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**As of right now the poll is at a dead even tie. So more votes if at all possible. Thank you. Kirkland- Thanks for the words of encouragement! Lily- I DO actually have a way planned that will tie everything together. It will probably happen within the next seven chapters. I think that it will be very pleasing to most everyone. I shall allow all of you to speculate on that. Go ahead. SPECULATE. Ideas! That's about it for now, please leave a review on your way out! Have a fantastic day and DFTBA!**


	31. Chapter 31

**Yet another chapter. This will finally be the end of day four. At chapter thirty one. Because I say so, that's why. Anyways, enjoy! Disclaimer- I'm a minor. Technically I don't own anything. Much less Sherlock.**

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Sherlock arrived at a busy street corner around four thirty. He pulled out his violin and began playing, a mixture of songs he had memorized, his own previous compositions, and improv. After approximately twenty minutes a passerby dropped a pound into his case. Fantastic. Sherlock played for hours. He played. And played. And played some more, never appearing to rest, transferring pieces and phases into each other seamlessly. Just pure, simple, music. A crowd of four or five people seemed to constantly hover around Sherlock. As soon as one of them left it was never long before someone else replaced them. And so the process went for hours. Sherlock played, people would gather, some would leave and another would take their place. Finally, at about ten thirty, Sherlock stopped playing and started to pack up his violin. He looked into the case and took the money that had been dropped in, placing in his backpack. At a quick guess he was thinking that there was probably about thirty pounds. Not too bad, he thought to himself. He grabbed everything that he owned and began the walk back to where he would spend the night.

oOo

Sherlock entered the breeze-way, feeling pretty good. He could do this, living on his own on the streets until he was able to get back to 221b. He had money, he had clothes, he had a plan, and he didn't have to deal with Mycroft. He sat down against the breeze-way wall, feeling elated. If things went half as well as they had today for the rest of his time living like this, then things would be easy! He thought for a few minutes, reminiscing of the past few hours, before pulling out the book that he had checked out from his backpack. He picked a spot at random and opened it. If he did this the entire night he could easily have it finished by the time the school day started. He shifted into a more comfortable reading position and started in on the book, becoming entirely absorbed after a few minutes as he always did, his mind filled with equations and compounds. The consistency and reliability of science, counteracting the unpredictable elements of his own life, giving him something stable to grasp onto, reassuring him that everything would be fine.

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**Timey-Wimey- I seriously considered having your idea happen when I was writing the chapter. But I decided against it. For a time though that's what looked like was going to happen, but I thought it would be too predictable. Thanks for trying though! Much appreciated! **

**Also, I generally have three to four chapters more than are posted written out. Just putting that out there. So if you suggest something for the chapter directly after the most recent one, it might not get used. YOU GUYS ARE FANTASTIC FOR GIVING ME IDEAS AND I LOVE THEM. IM ONLY SAYING THIS SO THAT YOUR CREATIVE TALENTS DON'T GO TO WASTE. IM SORRY IF I SOUND LIKE A PRICK, I SWEAR I DON'T MEAN TO. Thanks for being such wonderful people! Have a great day and DFTBA!**


	32. Chapter 32

**Sorry I didn't update yesterday, I was busy. But you've got your chapter fix today so enjoy! Disclaimer- If I owned Sherlock then season three would already be out.**

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Johns alarm clock went off at five thirty the next morning. He performed his now daily routine of getting out of bed, changing clothes, and brushing his teeth, all while still not fully conscious of the world around him. He left the flat, waking up fully as soon as he stepped out into the brisk, cold, morning air. He unlocked his car and got in, allowing it to warm up for a few minutes before starting his daily journey to St. Bards. He soon arrived at the school and got out of his car. Instead of heading to the library as he usually did, he headed directly for his classroom, figuring that Sherlock would be in some other part of the school again, or that even if he wasn't that he wouldn't talk to John too much. Besides, John would see him soon enough in class. And then, for a third day in a row, during lunch. So he skipped the library. John made his way to his room, not in a very great hurry. As he rounded the corner that led to his destination he was met with the sight of Sherlock, no more than forty feet away from him, standing out side the classroom door. Intrigued Kohn sped up his pace a bit, arriving quickly at the door.

" Hey, Sherlock." He greeted, unlocking the door and allowing through of them in. Sherlock flipped on a light.

" Hullo, John." He replied. John shook his head and placed his things down on his desk.

" Why do you call me John, Sherlock?" He asked. Sherlock shrugged.

" Why not?" The student retorted.

" Hmmm..."

Sherlock looked away from John and picked up one of the class textbooks to read at his desk while John wrote up the days lesson on his chalkboard. Silence ensued, each consumed by their own work. After a few minutes Sherlock broke the quiet.

" You've got it wrong." He stated, halfway looking up from his book. John turned around.

" I'm sorry?" He asked. Sherlock closed his book fully and walked up next to John, motioning to the board.

" This. You've got it wrong." He said again. John furrowed his eyebrows.

" I'm not seeing it. What've I missed?"

" Molybdenum. You've put down that it's atomic weight is 92.91." He stated. John looked at the board and saw his mistake.

" Ah." He began erasing. " Any chance you know it's weight?" He asked. Sherlock responded without a moments hesitation.

" 95.94." He supplied. John thanked him and copied it down. Sherlock had invited the conversation, John realized. He wasn't about to let this opportunity pass him by. He scrawled down the rest of what he needed to, placed the marker back into its original position and turned to Sherlock, who was still standing just a few feet away from John.

"...So, Sherlock, how long had you been waiting outside the door before I came?" He asked casually. Sherlock shrugged.

" Five minutes at the most." He replied.

" So-" John started.

" John." Sherlock cut him off.

" What is it, Sherlock?"

" I'd like to talk, I really would,"

John snorted at this as Sherlock continued.

" But I'm tired. Really. Tired. So if it would be at all possible to get some sleep right now, then that would be beyond fantastic." Sherlock requested. If John looked just a bit closer, it became obvious what Sherlock was saying. His head kept drooping down a bit then snapping up before he dozed off, and he was moving somewhat lethargically. John nodded.

" Of course, Sherlock." He agreed. A wave of relief flooded over the boy.

" Thank you, John." He said, returning o his desk.

" Didn't get enough sleep last night?" John asked.

" Something like that." Sherlock replied, resting his head on his arms, which were crossed over each other on his desk. John checked the time on his watch -six twenty-three- and was about to say something else to Sherlock when he discovered, much to his surprise, that he had already fallen asleep. John chuckled to himself. Teenagers. Always ready to fall asleep at a moments notice. He supposed that he and probably been the same way when he was in year eleven. John would find a way to keep himself occupied until school began, allowing Sherlock to rest in peace.

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**I will be closing down the poll tonight at midnight northwest time. So go ahead and cast your votes if you want to! Thanks for all the words of encouragement! I swear I'm trying to work on my grammar and such! Timey Wimey- This is set in London. I believe that I have probably made American person mistakes to make you think that. Lily- thanks for the kind words! Much appreciated! Zelda 12343- I think that you shall become happy... Kirkland- Thanks for continuing your reviews! They are awesome and you are loved! Bandies unite! To everyone, have a great day and DFTBA!**


	33. Chapter 33

**This is not a new chapter, merely an authors note. I'd like to thank the nameless stranger who pointed out that there were blank spaces where the schools name should heve been. It would appear that FFN doesn't like to have St. Bards be written out with no spaces. To the point where no matter how many times I tried (which was at least four) it wouldn't save that part. Not kidding. I could write anything else in there but St. Bards as one word. So it has a space now and FFN is perfectly happy to let it actually exsist. I dont know if its FFN acting funky or if its my ipod that I write these things on. Ill find out as soon as i can and let you know. Once again much thanks to the reader who pointed it out, you're awesome! And since I forgot to plead last chapter, ideas and suggestions please! They are much appreciated! Have a fantastic night and DFTBA! New chapter should be up tomorrow!**


	34. Chapter 34

**Obvious statement time! New chapter! Enjoy! Disclaimer- Do you really not understand this yet Moffat? You own Sherlock. Where does that leave me? Sherlockless.**

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" Sherlock." John shoved him gently. " Sherlock, wake up." He repeated. The student woke with a start, his eyes blinking blearily.

" John." He said simply.

" Class starts in two minutes, Sherlock. Thought I'd give you a heads up."

Sherlock nodded at this, running his hands through his curls of black hair.

" You feel any better?" John asked. Sherlock shook his head and yawned.

" More tired than before if anything." He admitted. John smiled

" Yeah, well, tired or not you've got to stay awake now."

Sherlock mumbled something but didn't argue. Several seconds later the first students clambered into the classroom, escaping the bitter chill of of the outdoors. Mere minutes later every seat in the room was filled and John was calling for order in the room.

" Thank you." He said once everyone had settled down. " Alright so we're continuing our chemistry unit today. Picking up where we left off yesterday-"

oOo

Class seemed to pass quickly, and when it was over Sherlock lugged his backpack over his tired frame and left the classroom. John had let him leave without reminding him about lunch, he noted. Which meant that he trusted Sherlock enough to believe that he would come of his own accord. Sherlock liked it. This notion that John trusted him: it was a rather nice feeling to have, trust. Sherlock continued on his walk to the band room, a feeling that today might be decent.

oOo

The rest of Sherlocks classes quizzed by, hardly seeming to take any time whatsoever. They'd had a substitute for Maths that day, thank God. The sub ment that there was no confrontation, no yelling, and that Sherlock was able to leave for lunch on time. Miraculous. Sherlock made his was to Johns classroom. Earlier in the year it had simply been the science classroom to him. But ever since John had shown up to St. Bards it had evolved into Johns classroom. Sherlock was pretty positive that was a good thing. He arrived at Johns classroom and opened up the door very slightly, slipping in quietly. He set his bag by the desk and took his usual seat across from John.

" Hey, John." He greeted.

" Hello, Sherlock. How's it going?" John asked. Sherlock nodded.

" Fine. Substitute in Maths today. So that was good."

John half smiled. " No yelling then, I take it?" He asked in a light manner as he passed Sherlock a sandwich and drink. The student accepted them wordlessly.

" No." He replied as he took the sandwich out of its plastic bag. " No yelling."

John nodded. " That's good." He said. They sat for a few minutes, eating their lunches, until Johns curiosity finally got the better of him.

" So, Sherlock." He began. Sherlock set down his sandwich and listened.

" Hmm?"

" Where'd you learn so much about science? I mean you and I, we're like at the same level. It's insane."

Sherlock smiled thinly. " I teach myself." He answered. " Check out books from the library and such. And then I go home and read them. That's all there really is to it, John."

" Does Mycroft know?" John dared to inquire. " About your interest in it?" To his great surprise Sherlock shrugged his shoulders. John had been mildly hesitant in asking the question simply because it concerned Mycroft. But Sherlock hadn't reacted strongly at all. Interesting.

" I'm not really sure." He admitted. " I think that he's aware if to a degree. I just don't believe that he knows the extent of my knowledge on the subject."

"... I see." John responded. After all he needed to say something to that information. John shifted in his seat. He had a question that had. Een nagging at him for a while now. He desperately wanted to ask Sherlock. He just wasn't sure if it would be too much too soon.

* * *

**So what should the question be? I've got a few ideas. 1. When/how did Sherlocks parents die. Or 2. When did Mycrofts drinking start. If you don't like those suggest your own! Really! I take suggestion and seriously consider them! If you give me an idea I will do my best to do it justice! So go ahead and press that little review box down there, it exist for a reason after all, and drown me in ideas. I dare you to. Anywho, have a fantastic day and DFTBA!**

**\/**


	35. Chapter 35

**Another chapter. Much thanks to Lily. Some of your ideas shall be incorporated into the next couple of chapters. So great job on that and a big thank you. Enjoy! **

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" Sherlock," John began, slowly, cautiously. " I'm going to ask you a question. Most probably a very personal question that won't be pleasant to answer. Is that all right?" He asked.

" You've made the entire situation sound absolutely lovely, John." Sherlock replied sarcastically. " But go ahead if you must."

John was slightly taken aback at the air of disconcern in Sherlock voice.

" You're positive about this now, are you?" He asked again, just to be sure. Sherlock nodded impatiently.

" Yes, I've told you once." He replied with a motion of his hands, clearly indicating for John to get on with whatever it was that he had to say. John opened his mouth and began.

" Understand that I'm not trying to invade upon your personal life, Sherlock," He said awkwardly. " I just want to understand some things a bit better."

Sherlock nodded stiffly.

" When, exactly, did Mycroft start drinking?" He asked. Sherlock hesitated for a fraction of a second.

" When our parents died." He responded quietly. John nodded.

" Okay." Said John, thinking furiously about the proper course of action from there on out.

" How did your parents die?" He asked. It was really the only thing that immediately came to mind. Sherlock became motionless, with the exception of his hands, John noticed, which he continued to fiddle with. When had he started doing that? John refocused.

" Murdered." Sherlock said after a few moments of silence.

" I'm sorry?" John asked. Sherlock turned his pointed gaze from his hands to John.

" Murdered. They were killed John." He said sharply.

" Christ, Sherlock..." John breathed, slightly disbelieving, but acutely aware that this was the complete truth.

" How long ago was this then?"

" Seven years ago. I was eight."

John picked up his sandwich and chewed in silence. Sherlock watched him closely.

" You gonna eat that sandwich at all?" John eventually asked. Sherlock picked it up and complied with the subtle request. More silence. An awkward silence this time, neither of them really knowing what to say to the other. Finally, after about seven minutes of this, during which they had both finished their lunches, John spoke up.

" Did anybody help you? After your parents died that is. Any support?"

Sherlock looked vaguely confused. " Wha- no. Nobody...no" He finally settled on, having stumbled on his words enough it seemed. John nodded. What he had been trying to ask, but in a very general and round about way, was if Sherlock and Mycroft had any relations in the area. Obviously not. If they had then they would have been helped. So no relations and no friends. Hmmm. They fell aback into the uncomfortable silence. After a while longer, the bell rang, indicating that lunch was over. Sherlock grabbed his things.

"I"ll see you later, John." He said quietly as he left for the door.

" Yup." John replied. And with that Sherlock Holmes disappeared.

* * *

**Nerdgeekflower- I will do a a sicklock. It sounds like it would be fun to write and an interesting area to explore. I have no idea when it might happen. I'm not even going to give an estimate. Last time I did that I said that I thought that Lestrade would be introduced by chapter thirty. That sort of flew out the window. But it will happen. **

**Lily- I must say thanks again. I love long reviews. It would be perfectly fine if you left something that long for every chapter! I don't expect you to, just saying. I probably read your review eight times this morning just going 'This is fantastic.' And that's sort of how some of this chapter came about. I don't know how obvious it was but the part where John asked about help was based on your idea suggesting that he ask about any social workers. It is just a tad bit to early for John to know about the SH and drug use but it's coming up soon I swear. Also thanks for the violin idea of it getting restringed. I was needing an excuse for Sherlock in the next couple of chapters... DUN DUN DUUUUUNNNNNNN. So thanks a ton, you are awesome!**

**Everyone The poll decided that this will not be a John/Sarah thing. I apologize to every one who wanted that. In better news Lestrade will be showing up very soon indeed, John shall be finding things out about Sherlock and shiz will go down, all taking place during the same day that the last few chapters have been covering. *LAUGHS EVILY* Also after that happens and possibly one or two other things, Pinlies idea shall be used. If you're still reading this I promise that it has not been forgotten by any means! I simply needed to get Lestrade in here before I could do it. I think that just about covers it. So please review, it absolutely makes my day! Have a day covered in awesomesause, and DFTBA!**


	36. Chapter 36

**New chapter. Again. Enjoy! Disclaimer- I own this pillow. This pillow right here. The one I'm laying on. Not Sherlock though. Don't own that.**

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John watched Sherlock leave and began to ready himself for the last two classes of the day. Murdered. Sherlocks parents had been murdered. It made John incredibly curious. How? Had they ever caught the criminal? Where had Sherlock been? How had the Holmes brothers found out? John wanted to know the answers. But he also didn't want to invade Sherlocks privacy. He had thought himself to be on the borderline of doing just that with the questions he had asked today. He considered for a moment though. He had made tremendous progress with Sherlock already, surely more than anyone else had ever managed. Perhaps there would be a time where Sherlock would tell him the details of his own accord. But for the time being John would have to make do with what he knew. Patience was key.

oOo

_Later_

Sherlock resisted in the library, lounging in a chair, reading through a thick chemistry book. He had decided to cut his last two classes. He had went yesterday, hadn't he? He couldn't take another two hours of such mundane boredom. The bell rang and schools was dismissed. Sherlock could have left, but decided to finish the chapter that he was on, as it was quite interesting, quantum gravity being the subject matter. Twenty minutes later Sherlock closed the book, satisfied with the new knowledge he'd gained, and re-shelved it. He grabbed his backpack and made for the band room to grab his violin. He arrived and pulled on the door. It didn't budge. Dimmock's already left for the day, Sherlock realized. Damn. He would be violin-less tonight. And he didn't have a book to occupy his mind. No books, no violin, no nothing. Which left exactly one choice in Sherlocks mind. Cocaine. His stash was back at 221b. But he had money from his performing last night. Enough to buy some, he was sure. It was settled. Sherlock began the walk to Sebastian Morans, his dealers, residence, his mind buzzing in anticipation. It took him a good while to get there, it was at least an hours walk. So by the time he arrived it was four thirty and beginning to get dark, there was a slight chill in the air. He walked up to the houses door, discreetly, and knocked. After a few seconds of waiting, Sebastian opened the door.

" Sherlock." He noted with some surprise.

" Sebastian." Sherlock acknowledged. Sebastian opened the door a bit more.

" Come on in." He invited. Sherlock stepped inside, secretly glad to be out of the cold.

" You know what I'm here for, Seb?" He asked, cutting directly to the point. Sebastian nodded.

" How much do you want?" He asked.

" However much thirty dollars will get me." Sherlock responded calmly. Sebastian clasped a firm hand on the youths shoulder.

" Whatever you say, mate." He agreed, smiling. " I'll be back in a sec." Sebastian turned from Sherlock, into a hallway, and from there to a room that split off. Sherlock waited impatiently for Sebastian to return, pacing the room furiously to pass the time. He had been here many times before, to many to count in fact. Finally Sebastian returned, a small plastic bag partly filled with white powder in hand. Money exchanged hands and Sherlock carefully placed the bag in the outermost pocket of his backpack.

" You need a syringe?" Sebastian asked.

" As a matter of fact, I do." Sherlock replied in the same calm voice as before. Sebastian disappeared again and came back, gaming Sherlock a new syringe, still in its plastic wrapping, which he placed in the right front pocket of his jeans. Sherlock grinned.

" Thanks, Seb." He said.

" Any time, Sherlock." The dealer replied cooly. Sherlock smirked faintly at this. Always welcome at the drug house, he was. He turned and made for the door, joyous to have his distraction for the night.

" Laters!" Sherlock said happily as he left the house, back on the dark streets of London once more, prepared for anything that may come his way.

* * *

**Lily- Thanks for the ideas! I really don't mind, they're brilliant! Kep 'em coming! I shall reread your review later and probably use some of your stuff for future chapters!**

**Zelda12343- Both you and Lily shall get your wish. Not sure when or how yet. So ideas! Should John find him in a hallway? Should he go back to Johns apartment and have it there? After school perhaps, in a courtyard? Tell me what you want to see!**

**So everyone have an absolutly fantastic night, leave an idea or eight in the review you leave (hint), and DFTBA! (Not that you ever do, wonderful people that you are) OH! ALMOST FORGOT TO MENTION THIS. HAVE BEEN FOR THE LAST THREE CHAPTERS. 12000 views! Freaking out about this. You guys are amazing!**

**One more thing- Hungergamesfanatic12- (I apologize if I messed that up) DFTBA does mean Don't Forget To Be Awesome. Just thought I'd mention that do you were sure.**

**Good night folks!**


	37. Chapter 37

**Hello! Tis updated again! I had a fun time writing this chapter and I hope that you enjoy it! Disclaimer- Ahhh... Nope. Searching through receipts for the last month and a half, I don't see any transaction with Moffat. Darn.**

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Except this. Sherlock Holmes was prepared for anything except this one particular situation. A police car, prowling the dark streets. Come on, he thought, pull yourself together, act casual. But he was under stress, tired to the point that it was a miracle that he was still on his feet, and carrying thirty dollars worth of cocaine in his backpack. Casual didn't exactly click well at the time. His walk was too fast, too controlled, his hands shoved too forcefully in his pockets, and his gaze focused on the ground too intently. The car pulled up next to him. Shit. He stopped and turned to the car.

" Anything I can help you with, sir?" He asked, putting a false note of cheerfulness in his voice. The cop looked him up and down.

" Any reason your over here? At this time? It's not a nice neighborhood, kid." He said, still studying Sherlock. Sherlocks eyes fledged to his backpack, returning to the cop almost immediately.

" No, sir, just taking a walk." He replied, hoping against hope tag the officer hadn't noticed. He had.

" Could I go through your backpack?" He asked, motioning yo said object. Sherlock stood stalk still. He didn't know what to do. If he said no, then surely he would look more suspicious. But if he said yes, the cop would go through his backpack, most likely finding his drugs. The officer saved Sherlock from making the decision that would seal his rate.

" Let me try that again. Hand over the bag." He demanded, stepping out of the car to face Sherlock. Sherlock hesitated a moment, but gave him the backpack. Damnit, there was no way out of this...DAMNIT! He stood sullenly as the officer snooped through his bag. He opened the main compartment and raised an eyebrow at the contents, or rather, the lack of contents. He leafed through the entire thing and eventually came to the outer pocket. Sherlocks breath shortened slightly and his heart rate skyrocketed. There was nothing he could do to prevent this from happening. Nothing at all. The older man rummaged through the outermost pocket. A few seconds later his hand re-emerged, holding the small bag of cocaine in its grasp, a skeptical look on its owners face. He opened the front door to his car and placed the bag in there carefully, no doubt in his mind as to what the bag contained. Sherlocks backpack soon followed. Sherlock could have ran. He was confident of that fact. He could have easily outran the cop and had lost him on the streets of London once he got going, winding through the alleyways and back roads. But he also knew it would be futile. If he escaped now that would only mean that the rest of the force would be alerted of the incident, and on the look out for him. Songs sayer exactly where he was, waiting for what ever would happen to happen. The officer turned back around, a pair of hand cuffs in his grip.

" You are being arrested on the charge of being in possession of illegal substances." He stated firmly. Sherlock held his hands out.

" This is called cooperation, is it not?" Sherlock asked, half mocking, half almost serious. The officer didn't reply, instead placing the cuffs around Sherlocks wrist and clamping them down to an uncomfortable tightness, pocketing the key when he was done. He opened the back passenger door of the car.

" Get in." He ordered gruffly. Sherlock complied wordlessly. He felt as if, for this one occasion, it might be better to keep his mouth shut. Most of the time that didn't stop him in any way whatsoever. Then again, this also wasn't most of the time. The officer climbed in the front of the car, started the engine, and began driving, presumably to the station. As for Sherlock, he leaned against his seat, closed his eyes, and thought.

* * *

**Bit of a cliffhanger there for you! Go ahead, tell me what you think will happen, or what you want to happen! Next chapter is when Lestrade gets introduced. If he doesn't I will do something dramatic to signify my apologies. So. Yeah. Lily- Doesn't sound cruel at all! I love reading that sort of stuff and love writing it more! The sort of feels you get from it. :D. Yes, please continue reviews when you can, they are a great help and wonderful motivator! I get it of you don't have the chance though, so don't stress. Everything's cool.**

**Zelda12343- Thanks to both you and Lily for the suggestions. I know what at least some of you guys want and will begin planning it out. It's still an open question though. So anyone and everyone is welcome to leave a review or PM me telling where/how you would like to see Sherlocks eventual breakdown happen. **

**Everyone- thanks for all the views and reviews! They still are a big source of ideas and motivation and such for this story. So that's great! Feel more than free to leave a review on your way out, have a wonderful night and DFTBA!**


	38. Chapter 38

Yet** another chapter for you all! Hope you enjoy, it's Lestrade time! Disclaimer- Just borrowing.**

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Twenty minutes later they arrived at the Scotland Yard police station. The officer got out and opened Sherlocks door, permitting for him to step out. He then grabbed the bag that he had confiscated earlier that night and Sherlocks backpack. He led Sherlock up the stairs and into the Yard building. Sherlock was led through several hallways before the officers walkie-talkie came to life.

" Assistance is required at Milford Street, please come as soon as possible." The transmission ended. The officer grumbled something and altered his course through the building. Several minutes late he halted in front of a door. Sherlock glanced up from the floor as the door was pushed open and he was led in. A man looked up from his desk, which was covered in official looking papers and letters. He looked to be about forty and had brown hair, intertwined with some grey. The man looked up to the pair of Sherlock and the officer who accompanied him, looking somewhat tired and maybe, just maybe, a little bit distracted.

" Tobius." He recognized, sounding surprised at the officers sudden presence in his office.

" Greg." The other acknowledged. He stepped forward bring Sherlock grudgingly with him.

" Look, I caught this kid, he's got about twenty grams of cocaine on him." he held up the bag Which contained the drug. " I know that this isn't your division, Greg, but nobody else is available, and I just got called down to another place. Would you deal with him?" Tobius asked. Greg nodded.

" Yeah, I'll work with him. You go ahead to where you need to be." Greg replied. Tobius let out a sigh of relief.

" Thanks, Greg. I've got his backpack as well." he lifted it up to show his superior, who nodded.

" Put them both on my desk, and you can go." He instructed. Tobius did just that and then left the room, closing the heavy door on his way out. Greg studied Sherlock for a brief second.

" Sit down." He invited. Sherlock complied, plopping lazily in the chair which sat opposite of Greg.

" What's your name then?" Greg prompted.

" Sherlock Holmes." Sherlock replied sullenly. " And you're Gregory Lestrade, senior Detective Inspector of the Scotland Yard." He continued before falling silent once more. Lestrade stared for a moment.

" How- How did you know that?" He asked, clearly unsettled.

" Which part?"

" All of it." Lestrade requested. Sherlock rolled his shoulders and relaxed in his chair just a bit.

" Tobius called you Greg. Obviously short for Gregory-" He started. Lestrade interrupted him.

" Hold on a moment. How is that obvious? Why are you so convinced that it's Gregory, how can you be sure it's not just Greg?" He asked. Sherlock smiled thinly.

" You're at least forty years old, probably just a bit older than that. Gregory was a more common name than Greg back in the seventies. You've probably just started having your name abbreviated within the last twenty years when shorter names became more commonplace."

Lestrade nodded, following Sherlocks reasoning.

" Okay then... That's... Reasonable. My position. How'd you gt that?"

" You're above the regular officer. That narrows down the positions you could fill. You work at Scotland Yard. In an office. There are relatively few offices here from what I've seen. So a position that there is not a great need for it to be filled. Detective Inspector then." Sherlock finished. Lestrade shook his head.

" What about me being Senior Detective Inspector?" Lestrade inquired. Sherlock sighed.

" When officer Gregson-" Lestrade wasnt going to even bother asking how Sherlock knew that Tobius's last name was Gregson. " Got the call down to the scene he headed directly here. That indicates that you are well known throughout the building and have quite a lot of experience. Thus making you Scotland Yards Senior Detective inspector." Sherlock explained to the slightly-but-not-really disbelieving Lestrade. He followed Sherlocks logic when it was presented to him, but was at a loss to explain how anybody could have noticed such fine details, or how the youth could draw such accurate, conclusive, inferences from them. Lestrade cleared his head and found his voice once more.

" One more. Just one before we get to the actual talking, how'd you figure out my last name?"

At this Sherlock actually laughed. " The papers on your desk, Detective Inspector!"

Lestrades eyes darted to the papers strewn on his desk.

" The envelopes as well." Sherlock continued, smiling. " Every single one of the addressed to a Mr. G Lestrade."

Gregory Lestrade felt himself redden, and almost, just below the surface, smile.

* * *

**So. For all of you concerned that I've gotten Sherlock into a situation that I can't get him out of, rest easy. I've got something figured out that will hopefully be more entertaining than reading about him deducing things from the wall of a prison cell. So there's that. Go ahead and guess what you think it is! Lily- thanks for the PM! It was great! I will go back and reread it later for more plot ideas!**

**Mocking Jai- Thanks for all the legal info! Very useful and interesting! I liked it and you are awesome for taking the time to type that out! **

**Everyone- Plot ideas! I still havent got a clue where I want this story to go, so everything is welcome and everything will be taken into consideration! Also thanks for all the wonderful reviews! It made me feel all fuzzy warm inside! I believe that was the most reviews I've ever had for a single chapter. So yeah. Substantial. If there's anything you want to see just let me know and I'll do my best! You guys are amazing, thanks for all the support! Have a great day and DFTBA!**


	39. Chapter 39

Gah!** I'm sorry this is so late! I didn't have a chance to update yesterday and I had a four hour band concert today! So it's been crazy but I've finally gotten the next chapter up! Hope you enjoy! Disclaimer- *insert something** vaguely** disclaimer-like here***

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" Right. Serious now." Lestrade started. " I'm going to need you to answer some questions about your arrest-"

" He didn't read me my rights." Sherlock interjected before the DI could continue. Lestrade rolled his head back.

" Damnit, Gregson..." He looked at Sherlock again and stood up. " We"ll need to book this, make everything official." He grabbed the bag of cocaine. " Tobius is new here." He explained to Sherlock, who stood up out of his chair. " And-" He faltered, a perplexed look coming over him. Sherlock raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything. Lestrade studied the drug filled bag, tossed it in the air lightly and caught it. He looked back at Sherlock.

" And this isn't cocaine..." He said slowly, clearly confused by this new development. Sherlock said nothing. Lestrade set the bag down on his desk.

" I've got enough experience to know my drugs. And this most certainly is not cocaine..." He muttered. Lestrade remembered back to his days at university. They'd been allowed to taste small -very small, mind you- amounts of narcotics for identification purposes. Lestrade inserted a finger into the bag, pulled it out, and licked it. He wiped his hand on his pants and started at Sherlock.

" Sugar...Powdered sugar." He said in disbelief. And in Sherlocks mind everything suddenly clicked. Sebastian had cheated him. It certainly wasn't the first time it had happened. He had done it before, just to remind Sherlock who was in charge. There was really no danger of Sebastian losing a customer, he knew that Sherlock would always come back whenever he next needed the drug.

Usually Sherlock would have been furious at the discovery that he'd been fooled, however this time he was beyond grateful. No cocaine, just sugar. He was off the hook. Sherlock made sure not to let it show though, as that would only arouse suspicion. Instead he continued to stand impassively as Lestrade turned his gaze back up to Sherlock.

" Why didn't you tell us that?" He asked. And Sherlock played the part.

" Do you honestly think that Gregson would have believed me if I had told him that what he was sure was a bag full of drugs was actually sugar? I think not." Said Sherlock. Lestrade seemed to consider for a moment.

" You could have tried-" He started.

" I could have. But I knew that you would eventually figure it out. I just thought that it would be better this way."

Lestrade gawked slightly at this, but gathered himself a moment later.

" So, just to clarify, you had a bag of sugar which Tobius was convinced was full of cocaine. He arrested you on the charge of possession of illegal substances and you didn't argue?" Lestrade asked. Sherlock nodded.

" It seemed to be the most logical course of action. Any protest I could have made would have been ignored, and I was confident that the true contents of my bag would be discovered once we arrived at the station. If not, then I would have asked for the bag to be double checked for accuracy. At which time you would have discovered that my bag had sugar in it. Is my reasoning clear to you now?" Sherlock asked. Lestrade ran Sherlocks explanation of the facts through his mind and nodded.

"...I suppose..." He eventually responded. A wave of relief rushed through Sherlock and he relaxed a bit more.

" So the appropriate course of action from here on out would be...?" He inquired. Lestrade considered for a minute.

" I suppose I'll have to let you go. After all I haven't got anything to accuse you of." He responded. Sherlock nodded, unbelieving of what incredible luck he'd had.

" I'll go ahead and call your guardian and they can come pick you-" He began, reaching for the office phone. Sherlock flinched.

" No. Don't. It's fine, I'll walk."

Lestrade merely smiled.

" Don't be ridiculous. It's raining, and it's dark. Just give me a number and I'll go ahead and call." He said kindly. Sherlock shook his head.

" Honestly, it's fine. I've got a couple of things to do anyways." He defended.

" It's at least six o'clock Sherlock. You've been through a lot today and I'm sure that anything you wanted to do can wait till tomorrow to happen." Said Lestrade, still smiling.

" Listen. My parents arn't home. Away on a work thing. So there's really no point in calling them." Sherlock lied easily. For the first time Lestrades smile faltered.

" Oh." He said simply. " Well, we can still give you a ride to your residence." He offered.

"Lestrade." Said Sherlock forcefully. " I'll be fine. Really."

The DI leaned forwards some.

" Sherlock, is there any reason that you don't want us to take you back?" He asks, sounding concerned. At around this exact moment Sherlock decided to change the flow of the conversation completely.

"...It's the gym teacher." He said suddenly.

" What?" Asked Lestrade, startled at the change in topic.

" Your wife. She's with the gym teacher." Sherlock replied bluntly Lestrade stared at him hard.

" How could you possibly know about that?" He asked, a steely edge to his voice. Sherlock opened his mouth to respond but Lestrade cut him off with a motion of his hand.

" Nope. You know what, don't even tell me. I don't want to know. What I do know however, is that this was a ploy to get us off topic. So talk." He said somewhat tightly. Sherlock swore under his breath.

" Lestrade, I'm a free man am I not?" He asked, already knowing the answer. As expected the Detective Inspector nodded.

" Alright. Then I really don't see what's keeping me from just walking out of this door." He turned and placed his hand on the door knob. And Lestrade felt powerless to stop him, there really wasn't anything he could do to prevent Sherlock from leaving.

" Sherlock!" He called. Sherlock turned to face him.

" Be careful, alright?" He said, not really knowing what else he could say. Sherlock smirked.

" No, I mean it, Sherlock. Be careful. And one more thing-" He added as an after thought. " If you ever want to talk about...about anything really, school, family, anything at all, you just come to me." He offered seriously. " You just come here and ask for me."

Sherlock didn't respond for a minute.

"...Thank you. I'll keep that in mind." Is what he eventually replied. " I'll see you later then, Lestrade."

And with that Sherlock exited the DI's office, free and back on the streets of London once more.

* * *

**So. Don't know if anyone saw that coming. Thought that it migh be a very Sebastion thing for him to do. And the obvious fact that it got Sherlock out of a sticky situation.**

**Lily- I took the name Tobius Gregson from ACD's story's. Needed an officer name and it just showed up. So that was that. It is a cool name though.**

**Bruderlein- Much thanks for pointing that out! *hits head against wall repeatedly* WHY DIDNT I NOTICE THAT?! WHY? *calms down a bit* after this I am off to reread all 38 chapters before and change the word dollar to pound. It. Must. Be. Perfect.**

**Zelda12343- There will be more Lestrade in upcoming chapters. This is not the last you will see of him by any means. I've got something planned out that I will work on after I get this done.**

**Orchfan- Very possibly...it's decided. It shall be slipped in. No idea when or how but it will happen. Just for the sake of it happening.**

**Everyone- So ideas and suggestion are welcome! Your plot bunnies wil have a good home if you let me adopt them for a while! That's all for now! OFF TO DO YET MORE WRITING! Everyone have a wonderful day and *fill in the blank* !**

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	40. Chapter 40

**Chapter forty! ...This feels strangly substantial. Enjoy! Disclaimer- My meeting with Moffat did not go exactly as expected...mostly because it never took place.**

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And so Sherlock walked the streets, unsure of what else he could do with himself for the time being. He felt that if he were to return to St. Bards then he would most certainly fall prey to the lure of sleep which he needed so very badly. But he wasn't about to sleep at St. Bards or in the alleys of London, no. He didn't like the fact that he would be unsecure and completely exposed to whatever passed him by. Sherlock would wait. He would wait until he was back in his room at 221b, or until Monday when he could doze off in Johns classroom. On second thought it might be better of he didn't fall asleep in Johns presence again. If he did it too many times then John may start to ask questions. Questions that Sherlock, in his present state of being, might not be able to give satisfactory answers to. After a long while of walking, it must have been at least nine thirty, Sherlock finally entered an alley and sank down against the wall. Nothing to do. For the next three days as well on top of that. Even if he had money he wouldn't have been so stupid as to go and try to get more cocaine, he'd had enough of a scare for a good long while. Even if he was bored he wasn't stupid. Sherlock struggled to think straight, his mind wouldn't stay still, it was noticing every detail of everything, dragging him off of whatever train of thought that he had originally been on. He needed something to focus on. No cocaine, no violin, no books. His mind automatically jumped to his other favorite pastime. Cutting. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed the shattered remains of a glass beer bottle. Sherlocks breathing grew uneven as his left forearm tingled. No. He couldn't do it. Not in a public alley. But he could. It was late. And still raining. No one would pass by. He ached for the feel of a blade tearing through his muscle. The pain would give his mind something to latch onto, something for him to focus on, he rationalized. Sherlock gave into the need. He stood up from his seated position and walked over to where the shards of broken glass lay. He sifted through them, trying to find a suitable one to use. Finally his fingers grasped a piece delicately and he sat back down, checking how far into the alley he was. Satisfied that no one would see him even if they should walk by the entrance, he rolled his left sleeve up with care. Sherlock wiped the piece of glass on his trousers and drew it across his inner forearm, pressing just hard enough so that a thin line of crimson emerged from the wound seconds after the makeshift blade ceased contact with him. Sherlock smiled in a crooked way. He had his distraction. To hell with anyone who tried to stop him.

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**At the time I'm just a bit too lazy to do a real proper authors note. So whatever comes out will have to do. Thanks for all the fantastic reviews, keep them coming!**

**Kirkland- Thanks for the words of encouragement, very much appreciated. The concert went great!**

**Zelda12343- Well it helps that I'm able to write quite a few chapters during school. When the classes get boring (which is quite often) ill just start working on this. So that factor is quite useful.**

**Everyone- ummm...Trying to think of something graceful to say here...nope. Nothing coming. So thanks for sticking with this story for so long, have a great night and DFTBA!**


	41. Chapter 41

**New chapter. Hope you enjoy, there will be John time next chapter and for the chapter after that before getting back to Sherlock I think. No idea why I've told you that. Anyways...Enjoy! Disclaimer- I live in America. Do you think that I own a British television show?**

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It was morning by the time that Sherlock finally shoved his piece of glass into his pockets for later use. There was no doubt in his mind that he would do the same thing later. He had spent the entire night cutting, limiting himself somewhat to make sure that it both lasted for night and that he didn't pass out from blood loss. It was still more than he had ever done though. His entire left arm was riddled in deep slices, each one still stinging against the cool, brisk morning air. Sherlock stood up, if a little unsteadily. He rolled his sleeve down gingerly, wincing in pain every time the fabric caught a cut wrong. He finally succeeded, grabbed his backpack, hoisting it over his shoulders, and walked out of the ally, joining the many people caught in the early morning rush on the streets. Sherlock was suddenly grateful that his short was black. Any other color and it would have been soaked through with the obvious, glaring discoloration of blood. People would have noticed for sure. But since his shirt was a solid black it just soaked up every other color of the spectrum, hiding his secret from everyone. Except it didn't, not really. If somebody was observant, if anyone were to pay a fraction of attention, everyone would have been aware of what he did. At times Sherlock was amazed by the ignorance demonstrated by other people, amazed but grateful that they missed what was so strikingly obvious to him. Small minuscule cuts littering the pads of his right hand. Clearly he had been handling a sharp object, and not very carefully at that. Dried blood underneath his finger nails. The cuts on his hand could not have possibly produced that much blood. So there was an outside source. The movement of Sherlocks left arm was more restrained then the rest of his body. It was hurting then. Hurt left arm, small cuts from sharp object, with blood underneath his fingernails to accompany it all. The entire thing explained itself clearly enough. Bu people, with their lives and things to do, seldom noticed such small details, and even less often cared. But that was fine. Just the way Sherlock liked it.

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**Sorry bout how short that was. Let's see here...**

**Lily- Thanks for the awesome review! I've got the next couple of chapters planned out but I could always do with more ideas! If you've got them go ahead and tell me if you'd like! Everything is appreciated!**

**Gemstone1234- Much thanks for the mention of infection from both you and Lily! I shall put that in there and it will cover two plot line areas in one! Feel free to guess about what two in a review! *Evil laugh at what I like to put Sherlock through***

**Motaki- because I'm to lazy to text you right now and I'll forget anyways, we should discus your plotbunny later. It might work but I'm not sure how it would fit in in.**

**Kirkland- Thank you for the kind words, they really do make me want to write better specifically to please you people. So you're pretty much drenched in awesomesause right about now. Good job.**

**Everyone- Please leave a review as they are my main source of food: don't want me to go and die because of malnutrition do you? Then I couldn't update this. *checks off begging for reviews from list* ALSO. The word awesomesause has been recognized by a whole two people. It exist now. Not sure why that's important. But it is. So leave a review, Jane a great day and remember to be awesome! (I'm just gonna sit here and imagine the looks of shock when you read that)**


	42. Chapter 42

**You get three guesses as to what this is. I bet you get it right. Enjoy! Disclaimer- If I were Moffat I wouldn't ever all the rights to Sherlock. Especially not to some thirteen year old. **

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John rolled over in his bed, his face in his pillow, sprawled out comfortably. It was nine o'clock, he thought to himself. He should be getting up by now. Well screw that, said another part, one that John liked much more at this moment in time. It's Saturday. It's not as if he had anything to do after all. He could sleep as late as he liked. It was settled. John shifted his sleeping position a bit and dozed off into a gentle slumber once more.

oOo

When John finally came to he checked his alarm clock for the time. 12:30 was what it showed. He threw the covers off of himself and stood up out of his bed, running a hand through his hair while walking over to the closed bedroom door. He opened it and stepped out into the rest of the flat, adjusting quickly to the light that occupied it. He yawned once and found his way to the kitchen, where he poured himself a cup of coffee, ignoring the sugar as always. Sarah must have heard him getting up as she came out from where she was and found him, a skeptical eyebrow raised.

" Do you know what time it is?" She asked lightly, pouring some coffee for her self as well. John nodded.

" Yup. Twelve thirty...That...That sounds really bad when you say it out, doesn't it?" He asked, rubbing his neck with his mug free hand. Sarah smiled.

" Just a bit." She responded. John sipped at his coffee.

" You're at the surgery by one today, right?" He inquired, double checking. Sarah gave him a _are-you-really-asking-me-this-we've-only-lived-together-for-three-years _type of look, but didn't say anything.

" Yeah, surgery at one." She checked her watch. " I should be leaving now actually if I want to get there on time." She noted, grabbing for her purse. " I'll see you later John" She dismissed as she exited the flat, leaving John to his own devises. The teacher returned to his room, coffee in hand, where he would proceed to work through some papers that needed to be put in the grade book. It didn't particularly bother him, grading on a weekend. In face he he liked it, enjoying the long periods of silence. Silence that allowed him to simply think.

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**Response time!**

**Lily- I just realized because of your review. There are at least five plot lines being tied together in the next part of the story. Possibly six. Go ahead and PM me if you feel up to it. Hope you get better soon!**

**Gemstone1234- To a degree... *lets you speculate***

**Everyone- So I've got this part and some of the next planned out. Pinlie, I you're still reading this, I apologize for it taking me so long to get to your idea. It will happen. Eventually. Ummm... Please leave a review, as they make me incessantly happy...Have a fantastic day and DFTBA! (the order of the universe has been restored)**


	43. Chapter 43

**Yet another chapter! Hope you enjoy! Disclaimer- In this day and age do we really 'own' anything? Doesn't the Government have control everything?! *Insert wide eyed conspiracist look here***

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John came across yet another one of Sherlock's -uncompleted- papers. He had been grading daily work and work sheets for about an hour and a half, and this was the fifths of Sherlock's papers that he had seen. Every one of them barren of any marks beside the ever present, neatly printed, name and date. John clenched his jaw and marked another zero. He just didn't understand. Sherlock's mind was brilliant and yet he wouldnt complete the simple class work that was presented to him. What was the deal with him?! John literally could not make heads or tails of the situation. Sherlock was incredibly intelligent, he could do practically anything with that brain of his. But he want making it known, wasn't showing what he could do, and was thus failing all his classes. It ruined any chance that he had of getting into a good college and John didn't understand why he would sabotage himself like that. And then it hit him, and he felt like an idiot for not having recognized the possibility of this right away. Sherlock probably felt worthless, like nothing that he did mattered. It wasn't hard to fathom after all. The kids at St. Bards hated him, as did the teachers. His parents had been killed at a young age, leaving him with an uncaring Mycroft. Everybody appeared to hate Sherlock, and to him it probably seemed like it was something about him. Something that he did, that there was just something fundamentally _wrong _with him. To John it seemed very likely that this was what was running itself through Sherlock's mind, and if that was the case then he felt like he was worthless, that nothing he did mattered. That nobody cared and that nobody ever would. Well he was wrong. John cared. He cared and he wanted to help Sherlock succeed. And by the Lord it would happen.

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**Gemstone1234- Great idea, I really like it and I actually have a way to incorporate it in that would make good sense! On the contrary, you need to ramble far more!**

**Lily- HOLY SHIZ. Thanks for all the wonderful ideas! *laughs at all the evil things I could do with them* I think that a few of them might be included once I play with them and skew them to the needs of the story. So that's fantastic, you're fantastic, your sister is fantastic, and that cloud is fantastic. The ideas are of great use and I really appreciate you taking the time out of your day to type them up!**

**Kirkland- Thanks a ton for pointing that out. I did mean alleys and I'll go through my chapters as soon as I can and fix that.**

**Zelda12343- Nope no exams. I live the states so that may have something to do with it. I've got homework and stuff but no exams at the moment so I don't foresee a lapse in updating anytime soon. **

**Everyone- Thanks for all the reviews! There were a ton and every one of them made me really happy! You guys are really good at that it would appear. There should be another chapter up tomorrow but I've got Tae kwon do testing tomorrow, so maybe not. I'll try my best though, I promise! Until then have a brilliant day and DFTBA!**


	44. Chapter 44

**So quite a few of you have mentioned that you enjoy my notes. I shall do my best to keep it up. I apologize really hard for how short this chapter is. Next one is a lot longer I promise. Enjoy! Disclaimer- Sometimes in my dreams I own Sherlock...But I suppose that doesn't really count.**

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Dusk fell and Sherlock began making his way towards somewhere that he could spend the night, preferably an alley. He had spent the day walking the streets of London, not doing anything or going anywhere in particular, entertaining himself with deductions of people who he happened to pass by. As he made his way to his destination Sherlocks mind buzzed with thoughts of the next day and what it held. Monday. He would finally get his violin back into his possession. And he also might be able to snatch a few hours of sleep while in a couple of his classes. But these were not without a negative side. He would have to face and deal with Anderson and Donovan, along with the rest if his teachers, John and Samuel aside. Sherlock sincerely hoped that Swany would not return tomorrow, he didn't have any particular desire to have an argument about the discussion they'd had on Thursday. But still, he thought, it would be good to be back in the warm halls of St. Bards. The positive and the negative aspects together.

oOo

Ten o'clock. Sherlock slipped into an alley where he would spend the night. He sat down for a while, his eyes drooping shut every once in a while. Finally, when he could no longer take the drowsiness he slipped the piece of glass out of his pockets, turning it over with his fingers slowly. At times he hated himself for this. That he had a need for it, the weakness it made him feel, that this was how he dealt. But at the same time he loved it. He loved how it was something that he could rely on for relief. So with mixed emotions about the whole thong, Sherlock indulged.

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**OH MY LORD. LOOK AT THAT CHAPTER IN ALL OF ITS 73 WORD GLORY. Next chapter is a St. Bards one. SHOOP DE WHOOP. So that's good. More John Sherlock interaction time. Excuse my laziness, but I'm not going to respond to reviews tonight. Partly cause I've got another story I want to type up and partly because I'm all mad at this chapter because it's so short. basically I love reviews, they make me all warm and fuzzy, so leave one if you would be so kind. Everybody have an amazing flu-free day (Lily) and DFTBA!**


	45. Chapter 45

**Sorry I didn't update last night, had a three hour long band concert. So here's the next chapter, hope you enjoy! Disclaimer- I own the notebook I wrote this in...that's got to count for something...**

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John woke up, rolling over and slapping his alarm clock, sitting up. He got up, brushed his teeth, changed clothes and in no more than thirty minutes was at St. Bards. John skipped the library agin, assuming that Sherlock would be outside of his door. His guess turned out to be correct. Sherlock sat, leaning against the wall, head rolled back, waiting. The teacher walked up to him. The jingle of the keys that he pulled out of his pockets must have been heard by Sherlock, for his head snapped up and into a position where he could see John. At first he looked apprehensive, frightened even. But when he recognized John a few seconds later he softened, becoming more relaxed.

" John..." He said, sounding relieved to be in Johns presence. Curious. That had never happened before. Sherlock stood up, grabbing his backpack with his right hand.

" You're here. Good." He said, sounding as if he were talking mostly to himself. John raised an eyebrow but made no verbal note of it. John entered and Sherlock followed quietly, flipping some lights on. He grabbed a text book and sat down in his normal seat. John preformed his usual routine of writing the days lesson up on the chalk board, casting a quick glance in Sherlocks direction every once and a while, checking up on what he was doing. The student was reading. Or at least he was pretending to be reading. Because whenever John checked Sherlock was looking at the book, but not in such a manner that convinced John that he was actually reading through his book. His eyes weren't focused and fiddling with his left shirt sleeve. John finished his writing with only fifteen minutes left to spare, as today's lesson was a lengthy one. John walked over to Sherlock and placed a hand on his unsuspecting shoulder, causing him to flinch. That damned flinch. Every time John made contact with Sherlock, there was th flinch. It was concerning, truth be told. He knew that Sherlock occasionally suffered physically at the hands of Anderson and Donovan, but were the beating they gave him so severe that they caused such a reaction as this to even the lightest, gentlest, touch? Or was there another factor? John just didn't know, and he wasn't sure if he really wanted to. All other factors aside, John always felt a pang of guilt every time he caused the youth to flinch. All these thoughts ran themselves through Johns mind in the amount of time that it took for Sherlock to look up at him. The teacher tried to throw off any of the conflicting feelings that he had within his chest, attempting to take on a light hearted air.

" Anything I missed today Sherlock? Any corrections?" He asked. Sherlock glanced up at the board, scanning it quickly.

" No mistakes John." He replied, returning to his book. John stood awkwardly for a moment.

" Hey Sherlock?" He said, getting Sherlocks attention from the book he was sort-of-but-not-really reading.

" Yes John?" He asked.

" Would you-" He started. " Could you, try to some of the work in class today?" He requested. Sherlock eyebrows furrowed, and John elaborated further.

" Only I was grading papers this weekend and none of yours were filled out." He explained. Another slightly confused look.

" I am well aware of the state of my papers John..." Sherlock said uncertainly. John nodded.

" Right. Do you think you could try to fill out the papers I give you today?" He asked. Sherlock drew in a sharp breath of realization.

" Oh! That's what you were...Yeah. I could try..." He responded. The student ran a hand through his mess of hair.

" My brain is all scattered-like today..." He explained apologetically, a shaky laugh escaped him. Sherlock reddened at...What he reddened at John wasn't quite sure. He merely nodded cautiously. Sherlock returned to his normal exceptionally pale state being.

" I'll try John. Really." He reassured the teacher. John turned and walked over to the classroom door, unlocking it as to allow other students in when they arrived in due time.

" Thank you Sherlock." He said after he had done this. Sherlock simply nodded his acknowledgment. They kept in silence for the few minutes that remained. After a short while the first students entered the classroom,tracking their seats. Once everyone had entered John took his position at the classroom is students, and class began. Hopefully, John thought, with Sherlock as an active participant.

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**Time to respond to three days worth of reviews! WHOOP!**

**Tc: I try to make them as long as I can, that I promise you. The thing is that I write most of the chapters at school so they don't come out quite as long. I write them at school cause when I come home I have tons of stuff to do. Motaki will vouch for me...I hope. And since I have stuff to do I also can't take an hour every night to type up a chapter. I apologize, I'm trying get write longer chapters.**

**Guest: I am indeed aware. I chose it on purpose because I liked the name for a school and it was a well place in the series. Thank for taking the time and caring enough to point it out though! Much appreciated!**

**Lily- Thanks again for the wonderful review! Glad you're feeling better! Don't worry about ideas, just give them if you feel like it.**

**Goanago- Thanks for the suggestion! I honestly have no idea how long this is toning to go on for or how it will end, or if there will be a sequel. I just don't know. IT WILL GO ON FOREVER.**

**That's about it, please leave a review, have a great day and DFTBA!**


	46. Chapter 46

**I apologize for not having updated the last few days, had stuff to do. Hope you enjoy! Disclaimer- When I move to London or somewhere with Motaki, maybe then. But as of now, I don't own Sherlock.**

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The bell rang, class ended, and students began rushing towards John, passing in their papers. John glanced over each one quickly in the interest of time before accepting the next sheet that was handed to him. After a short while of this, probably about a minute, the flurries of papers coming his way slowed down to a halt. He glanced up and saw Sherlock, to none of his surprise in his ritualistic spot of what must have been the back of the line when other students occupied the room. He handed his paper to JOhn and left the room without a word. Other students from his second hour started to enter the room just as Sherlock left, and John glanced quick;y at the paper that the boy had handed him, flipping it over to both sides, not checking the answers, merely that Sherlock had completed all the problems. He had. Everything seemed to be in order. Except for one small thing. It didn't concern John, not really. But there was a small spot of what appeared to be blood on the bottom left corner of the paper. After looking at it uneasily for a minute John wiped it off to be from a paper cut. Clearly. He put the paper down, quite proud of Sherlock, and started his next class.

oOo

The next two periods passed quickly and soon it was time for lunch. John waited anxiously for Sherlock, who arrived several minutes later. He walked in, looking slightly flustered.

" Swany was back." He explained. " Had a bit of a snark."

John laughed as Sherlock sat down. The student raised an eyebrow.

" Did I say something funny?" He asked quizzically. John shook his head.

" No it's just...never thought that I would hear the word 'snark' from you, of all people." he admitted. Sherlock looked skeptical but didn't say anything. He leaned back in his chair some and John slid him a sandwich. Sherlock glanced up at John.

" Are you just gonna keep giving me food that I don't want to eat?" He asked. John nodded.

" Unless you start bringing your own, I suspect so." John retorted, not missing a beat. Sherlock made a noise, probably of annoyance, but started in on the sandwich anyways. Neither of them said a word for a minute before John incited a conversation.

" So Sherlock," He began briskly. " How was your weekend?"

Sherlock shrugged. " Fine." He lied.

" What'd you do?" John inquired.

'_I was homeless, got caught and should have been arrested for possession of cocaine and cut myself to the point of almost passing out.' _was what ran through Sherlocks mind. Obviously though he couldn't say any of that.

" I...I read. And experimented." Is what he said instead. John nodded.

" What sort of experiments?" The teacher asked. Sherlock froze. He hadn't though that far in depth. He had experiments going on back at 221b, but he couldn't remember what they were, and he was to tired to think properly and-

" Sherlock?"

Johns voice snapped Sherlock back into reality.

" I, um...I didn't experiment. Actually." He admitted. John leaned back into his chair some.

" You don't have to lie to me Sherlock. Ever." He said. Sherlock almost laughed. Of course he had to lie. He could never Tell John the whole truth. He constantly lie to the older man about his habits, Mycroft, where he slept at night and other such things. Sherlock simply nodded though.

" Right. I'll keep that in mind." He said. Silence consumed the pair, more so than usual it seemed.

" Youre not very talkative today..." John ventured.

" Is that a problem?!" Sherlock snapped. John looked taken aback at Sherlocks sudden anger.

" I'm...I'm sorry Jihn...it's...never mind..." Sherlock mumbled uncertainly. He began playing with his left shirt sleeve, almost unconsciously it appeared. John eyed the motion curiously. This was what? The third time he had seen Sherloxk engaged in such an activity? The fourth? Sherlock seemed to notice that John was fiddling with his shirt sleeve and quickly put an end to his doings, choosing to take a bite of his sandwich instead.

" Sherlock..." John began. " Is everything alright?" He asked cautiously.

" Everything is fine John." The student replied quietly. John raised an unconvensed eyebrow, but Sherlock refused to elaborate further. He took another bite of his sandwich, finishing it, and stood up abruptly.

" What's that about then?" John asked.

" I've got to go to the bathroom." Sherlock responded, picking up his things. John glanced at his watch.

" And that's gonna take seventeen minutes, is it?" He asked sarcastically. Sherlock threw his backpack over his shoulder.

" Apparently." He replied, in a quite serious tone. In a flash the student was out of the door, leaving John in an incredibly confused state of mind. What had just happened? Was it so hung that John himself had done? He really wasn't sure. John, becoming more and more convinced that something was seriously amiss in Sherlock life, picked up the paper that the stud t had given him earlier that morning, hoping, but not really expecting to, some answers. But, as he glanced over it, really looking at it for the first time, he saw it. Mistakes. Not just one or two, but many. Moat all of the answers were wrong actually. Which was completely out of character for Sherlocks genius mind. Johns suspicions were confirmed. Something was wrong.

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**Cliff hangerish ending! I'll try to update tomorrow, I think I will be able to. Until the. Have a great day and DFTBA!**


	47. Chapter 47

**And here would be your daily chapter fill. Hope you enjoy, things are really starting to take place! Disclaimer- Since 1945 all British tanks have had a tea making station included...not really much of a disclaimer, but I felt the need to share that. In other news, I still don't own Sherlock.**

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The clock hit two o'clock and school ended. Students passed in their papers to John, who accepted them, before they rushed out the door. On e he was alone John packed up his things, worksheets included. He walked to the door, flipped off the rooms light switch, and left for the office. He took a slightly longer route than normal, hoping for a quiet walk. John rounded a corner, and stopped dead in his tracks. Not more than forty feet away from where John stood, a solitary figure sat against the buildings wall, their head sunken to their chest. John though that he recognized the mop of black hair that protruded.

" Sherlock?!" He called in minor confusion. The students head popped up from its position, revealing Sherlock Holmes. John quickened his pace to a light jog, meeting Sherlock. The student returned to his slightly curled position just before John arrived, making the teacher frown some. He sank down against the building, next to Sherlock.

" What're you doing?" He asked curiously.

Sherlock mumbled something in response.

" Couldn't quite make that out Sherlock." John said.

" ease leave me alone John." The youth said, louder and clearer this time, but still without looking up.

Well there's no chance in hell of that happening, thought John.

" Sherlock, I need you to look at me now." He requested stiffly. Sherlock shook his head.

" Sherlock. Last time you wouldn't look t me, you were hurt. So do as I ask." He said sternly. Slowly Sherlock looked up, confirming the other land fears.

" Sherlock..." He breathed.

" It's fine John." Sherlock responded hastily, moving away from John some.

" No Sherlock. It's really not fine."

Sherlock had been in a fight again. Nose bleeding, split lip, bruised face, it made John hurt just to look at the boy. Sherlock hung his head some.

" I've had worse..." He mumbled. " There's no need for concern..."

John hook his head.

" There's every need for concern." He said gently. " Anderson and Donovan again?" He asked. After a moment he was rewarded with a nod.

"...They said I was a sight..." He replied quietly. John stood up.

" Come on." He said briskly. Sherlock looked up in confusion.

" I said I'm fine..." He assured John uneasily. John snorted.

" And I'm calling this assault." He replied. Sherlocks eyes widened.

" John!"

" Sherlock, listen to me!" The teacher demanded. " I'm not just going to let people do this to you! I would file a report to the school, but knowing you, they probably wouldn't do a damn thing! I'm taking to a police station, and we're going to get this dealt with!" He said furiously.

" You can't file assault for me." Sherlock argued. John had to admit that he was right.

" No, no I can't. I'll give you time to think about it on the way there, and if you want to do something about it, I'll back you up all the way. You to t have to press charges, but I'm taking you up to a station! Have you got that?!"

Sherlock nodded slowly.

" Fine." He responded. Sherlock stood up and grabbed his backpack, moving in a fashion that indicated just how much he was hurting.

" Do you need your violin?" John asked as they walked alongside each other. Sherlock shook his head.

" I'll be fine for he night." He replied. They arrived at Johns car shortly thereafter and Sherlock placed his things in the backseat of the vehicle, the. Proceeding to pile in the front passenger seat next to John.

He wasn't entirely sure why he's agreed to do this so easily. Maybe he's just glad that someone is finally taking notice and caring about him, he thought. Or maybe he's just tired of fighting. Either way he's not angry at John for wanting to help him. Not exactly happy, but most definitely not angry. It's an interesting feeling, Sherlock decides as John begins the drive to the station.

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**I love it when spell check tried to tell me that 'fine' isn't a word. Silly spell check. Anyways, thanks for all the reviews, they are always appreciated all the time! So go ahead and leave one just cause that's how awesome you happen to be! This story has somthing like 19000 views. It insane. And bloody amazing! You guys are spectacular! Have a fantastic day and DFTBA!**

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	48. Chapter 48

**I know, I know. I'm a horrible person, yes. I blame it on really bad writers block for this chapter. Which is no excuse but sort of is. So I hope that you enjoy this long over due chapter. Disclaimer- If I owned Sherlock, then I wouldn't have to put a disclaimer in front of everything, now would I?**

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They arrived at the Scotland Yard police station.

" Anything you want to tell me?" John asked, collecting and pocketing his keys.

" Mycroft's out." Sherlocks responded. John furrowed his eyebrows, slightly confused as to why Sherlock would chose to tell him this now, but doesn't let it throw him off track. He nodded.

" Alright then. Let's go."

They got out of the car, Sherlock in a substantially less graceful manner, and climbed up the stairs, entering the building. Together they walked up to walk front desk. Sherlock spoke quickly, before John could, holding the older mans words back.

" Could we speak to Defective inspector Lestrade?" He requested. The lady running the desk nodded.

" I'll get him up here in a few minutes." She responded. Sherlock and John stepped aside, leaning against a wall as they waited.

" And, who exactly, is Detective Inspector Lestrade?" John asked after a quick second. Sherlock shrugged.

" Someone I know." He informed the teacher. " Rather meet someone familiar."

John nodded.

" You gonna file?"

" Probably not John."

John made a noise that was most likely supposed to be one of disapproval, but Sherlock chose to ignore it, focusing intensely on the wall across the room instead.

" Sherlock!"

The pair of heads shot up, seeing a friendly Lestrade making his way towards Sherlock. At the sight of the student his cheery face fell into one of concern.

" Christ, what happened to you?" He asked. Sherlock shrugged.

" Got beat up." He responded. " I'm fine, but John here insisted that we come down."

Lestrade nodded slowly, showing understanding of the situation.

"...Alright...Shall we go down to my office, get this all worked out?"

" Theres nothing to work out." Sherlock replied sullenly.

" Still. Come on." The DI turned and left the room, John and an unwilling Sherlock in suite. John walked up next to Lestrade.

" All rather sudden and such, I know. I'm his teacher. Who might you be? How do you know Sherlock?" He asked.

" One of our officers caught him, charged him with possession of cocaine."

Johns eyebrows shot up.

" What?!" He asked, shocked and a little bit more than angry. Lestrade smiled a bit.

" It was nothing actually. No cocaine, honest mistake." He explained. John let out a sigh of relief.

" Good. That's very good. When was this then?"

" It was just this Friday night actually."

" He didn't tell me that...Why didn't he tell me that?" John mumbled to himself. They turned a corner, Sherlock still behind them, trailing by about thirty feet.

" Did you expect him to tell you something like that?" Lestrade inquired. John nodded absent mindedly.

" We meet up every day during lunch and he talks to me. Sherlocks actually been quite open with me...told me more about his life than anyone else..." He trailed off. Of Sherlock hadn't told him about something that substantial happening to him, what else's might he be hiding? The pair stopped and Lestrade opened the door to his office. They entered and several seconds later Sherlock joined them. They all took a seat and Lestrade spoke.

" Alright Sherlock. What happened?" He asked.

" Got beat up. I've already told you." The student retorted.

" You- you know what I mean. Why are you down here?"

" Dunno...John said I should come down here." Sherlock responded. " Look, I'm not pressing charges no matter what you say. I'm just not. It's fine. All of its fine." He said, his voice steely cold. Lestrade looked at John hopelessly.

" There's really not anything we can do if he doesn't want to file John..." He admitted. John shook his head, agreeing.

"... Are you going to take him home then John?" Asked Lestrade. The teacher nodded and Sherlock stiffened, alarm written all over his face.

" Mycrofts gone John." He reminded the older man.

" Who?" Lestrade inquired. John turned to face the DI once more.

" Mycroft. His brother. And legal guardian." He explained.

" You said that your parents were out...Not your brother." Said Lestrade slowly.

" Excuse me if I don't want to share every detail of my personal life." Sherlock replied, flaring. Lestrade backed down some.

" Fine, fine." He agreed. John looked at his student thoughtfully.

" Lestrade," He started. " His brother is out, we don't know when he'll be back, Sherlock here is obviously hurt, and I don't much like the look of that cut under his eye. So if at all possible and fine with Sherlock, what I'd really like to do is take him back to my flat. Let him rest up some, you know?"

Lestrade considered for a moment.

" Sherlock? That'd all be good with you?" He asked the youth, who in return gave a short nod of confirmation.

" Then...yeah, I suppose that would be alright John. Technically it's not allowed, but this is an unusual circumstance...so, go ahead, take him back to your place. If anyone's got a problem with it, you just tell them to come see me, I'll explain everything. Okay?"

John nodded.

" Thanks Lestrade." He responded. The DI raised an eyebrow.

" You keep calling me Lestrade." He noted.

" So I do. That's your name isn't it?"

Lestrade cleared his throat.

" Gregory Lestrade actually. Sherlock here is the only one whose ever called me by just my surname." He explained, shooting a curious glance at Sherlock.

" I...see. We'll see you later then...Greg." Said John as he stood up from his chair, Sherlock doing the same.

" If you need anything, go ahead and call me up John." Greg offered.

" Thanks Greg."

John and Sherlock exited the office and Scotland Yard. They arrived shortly there after at Johns car and got in.

" I'm staying at your flat." Sherlock said, trying to clarify.

" You're staying at my flat." John replied. Sherlock took a deep breath and nodded slowly.

" Well...that certainly escalated quickly." He remarked.

" Ir certainly did." John agreed. The two sat in absolute silence for a moment. But only before bursting into laughter.

* * *

**So I don't know how many of you saw that coming. But there it is. I've got the next few chapters planned out, but if there's anything at all you want to see, leave a review with it, or PM me, I always respond. I forget who it is that asked when there will be more, but here's an answer. I try to update everyday. And I'm on winter break as of today, so I can stay up till 4AM writing every night! WHOOP! So that's that. Leave a review on your way out, they make me happier than Mycroft with cake, have a fantastic day, and DFTBA!**


	49. Chapter 49

***Hides from angry mob of readers* Ahhhh, I'm so sorry! Life has been happening and I haven't been able to get this chapter written until today! I'll be back on my regular schedule hopefully by tomorrow when school starts back up. Go forth and enjoy! Disclaimer- You know all of my other really clever disclaimers? Just imagine one right here as well.**

* * *

John pulled into a parking lot and parked his car.

" This is where you live then?" Asked Sherlock, despite already knowing the answer. John pulled out his car keys and pocketed them.

" Yup. It's not too much, but we'll get it all worked out. Oh, I've got a flatmate, her names Sarah, I'll introduce you two." He said. Sherlock nodded.

" Right."

The pair got out of the car and walked up to a flats door. John unlocked it, and glanced at Sherlock, who was studying said door closely. John smiled despite himself.

" Are you gonna deduce the entire life of whoever lived here before us by that door, Sherlock?" He asked, joking. Sherlock took a deep breath.

" Whoever lived here first had a dog and two cats. Two children. The husband worked as mail service-"

" Oh my God, you're actually doing it..." John breathed. " Sherlock. I was joking." He told the youth, louder this time around. Sherlock stopped speaking and looked over at John, appearing to be surprised.

"...Ah. Joking." He said, rather awkwardly. John offered another smile and pushed the door open , into his flat. He stepped inside.

" Come on, inside you go." He invited. Sherlock looked hesitant but after a moment of consideration entered the flat, closing the door behind him. John turned.

" Sarah?! Where are you?!" He asked. The teacher motioned for Sherlock to come with him. Sherlock followed John through a hallway before the pair stopped in front of another door. John knocked, and shortly after, the door opened, revealing a woman. Her eyes darted quickly from John to Sherlock, and then back to John.

"...What?"

"...It might be best if we took this somewhere other than the hallway." JOhn suggested. Sarah nodded slowly.

" Yeah, that's what I'm thinking." She replied.

The three made their way to the flats sitting room, where John and Sarah took a seat, while Sherlock continued to stand.

" Go ahead Sherlock, sit down." John invited. The student complied, taking a place next to John. He allowed for himself to relax some, leaning into the back of the sofa a bit. Sarah shot another curious glance at Sherlock before speaking.

" Okay, what's happened?" She inquired. John took a breath.

" Introduce yourself." He instructed Sherlock. Sherlock leaned forwards and stuck his arm out for a handshake that Sarah cautiously accepted.

" Sherlock Holmes." He said shortly.

" Sarah Sawyer." She replied.

" Sherlock here," John began as Sarah looked back at him. " Needs a place to stay for a couple of 's a little banged up, got into a fight, and his brother's out-of-town. So I offered for him to stay with us. I've got everything worked out with the police, don't worry. He explained quickly. Sarah's eyebrows escalated towards her hairline.

" Right." She replied, standing up quickly. " I suppose that we can work out the details later. But for now, it's my turn to cook, so I've got to get dinner started. Make enough for three?" She asked, walking into the other room that was the kitchen.

" Not hungry." Sherlock called.

" Yes he is!" John overruled. " Make enough for three!"

Sherlock glared a bit at John, who returned the serious look.

" Besides lunch, have you actually eaten anything today?" He inquired. Sherlock shook his head. " That's what I thought. You're going to eat something tonight." Said JOhn, standing up off the sofa. Sherlock did the same.

" Right then, let's get you situated here. Have any preferences as to where you sleep tonight?" John asked. Sherlock shook his head once more.

" No, not really."

" The sofa is goof then?"

Sherlock glanced at the piece of furniture.

" I'd probably roll off of it..." He mentioned. John nodded.

" Alright. Any objections to the floor?"

" The floor's fine."

" Okay then. The floor in my room's got carpet on it, you could sleep there." John offered. Sherlock nodded.

" Yeah, that sounds great." He replied.

" Good. Come on."

JOhn led the way to his room and entered. He found a pillow and a few blankets, and tossed them at Sherlock, who caught them, only dropping one. As the student picked them up, John spoke.

" Go ahead and set up anywhere. Make yourself at home." He offered. Sherlock set his pillow next to a wall and dropped the blankets on top of it.

"...And there we are." He said, sounding mildly amused.

" Not much to it, is there?" John replied.

" Thought it would take longer." Said Sherlock flippantly. John shrugged.

" So did I. Anyways, let's get you cleaned up some."

Sherlock gave a curt nod.

" Bathroom's just right down this here hallway, we can use some of the stuff from there."

John led Sherlock to the bathroom, and proceeded to open up the medical chest, pulling out a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and some cotton swabs.

" The cut under your eye is the only one I think to treat. It wouldn't do much good to treat any of the other ones." Said JOhn, a bit absently.

" Yeah, if we just do that the rest should take care of itself." Sherlock agreed. John soaked te cotton ball in the chemical and handed it to Sherlock, who applied it to his cut. John watched wordlessly for a moment, arms crossed, leaning against the sink.

"...You know I'm going to talk to Anderson and Donovan about this." He eventually asked.

"...Of course I know." The student replied quietly. When he finished, Sherlock tossed the used cotton swab into the garbage.

" What now?" He asked. John checked his watch.

" Sarah's making soup, she should almost be done." He informed.

" Well then John-" Sherlock started. John cut him off.

" You call me John."

" Yes."

" My first name. But you call Greg, Lestrade, his surname."

" So I do."

" What's the difference? Why am I called by my first name, and he's called by his last?" John inquired. Sherlock waited a moment before answering.

" I call Anderson and Donovan by their surnames as well." He mentioned.

" Yes. Why? It seems like I'm the only one that you call by first name."

A ghost of a smile played on Sherlock's lips, just barely visible.

" I call people I trust by their first names, John."

* * *

**I've already got some of 50 written, and am about to go write more. So that should be up tomorrow. I didn't mean for 50 to be some milestone chapter, but I think that's what it's going to be. Milestone as in substantial. Substantial as in secrets are no longer secrets. Secrets are no longer secrets as in John f- NOPE. Gonna shut up right there. You are forced to check tomorrow to see what happens! Thanks for all the reviews, they made me make time today to write this chapter! Everybody who reviewed is awesome! I'll get back to responding to those next chapter probably. So leave a review on your way out, pretty please, have an absolutely fantastic day, and DFTBA!**


	50. Chapter 50

***cues dramatic music here* Here is chapter 50, as promised! Enjoy! Disclaimer- If I did own the rights to Sherlock, I'd have lost them. Along with every other important paper I've ever owned. **

* * *

Sarah, John, and Sherlock sat at the table, each with a bowl of soup in front of them.

" So Sherlock, how long do you expect to be here?" Sarah asked. Sherlock shrugged.

" I don't know." He replied truthfully. " My being here isn't a problem, is it?" He asked quickly. Sarah shook her head.

" No, not at all." She responded. Sherlock finished his soup.

" There's more if you want it." Sarah offered. Sherlock shook his head.

" No, I don't exactly eat what could be considered a normal amount." He explained.

" I have to force sandwiches on him." John interjected.

" I see. Well, I suppose you could put your bowl in the sink, and then..."

" Homework." John suggested. Sherlock shot a bewildered stare at him.

" What?!"

" I've assigned homework for the night." John explained. Sherlock looked vaguely confused.

" Did you?" He asked, trying to recall.

" I did."

" When was this?"

" When you weren't listening, apparently."

"...Fair enough. Care to enlighten me upon what the homework was?"

John sighed a bit.

" Write two paragraphs on electron filling order." He supplied.

" That's all?" Sherlock asked, putting his bowl in the sink.

" No. From you I want at least five paragraphs about electron filling order, electron configuration, and each of the orbitals." John said in return. Sherlock looked mildly surprised.

"...Alright then." He agreed.

" And I want for you to show me when you're done, Sherlock. Understood?"

" Understood."

" Right. There's paper and pencils in my room that you can use."

And with that Sherlock left, leaving John and Sarah alone.

" Any reason he's doing more?" Sarah asked casually, taking another sip of her soup. John nodded.

" The kid's a bloody genius. He's got this notebook that he sort of records all of his ideas and experiments in. He let me see it one time. It's some crazy advanced stuff, tested my knowledge, that's for sure. Those five paragraphs will be a synch for him.

" Really?"

" Yeah, he'll get it done pretty quick, won't take him any more than half an hour, I should think."

"...You had to remind him to do his homework." Sarah mentioned.

" I did."

" If he's so into science, then why would you have to remind him to do his homework?"

"...Sherlock doesn't exactly apply himself. He's way beyond his years with his knowledge. Just won't do his work."

" Well, why not?" Asked Sarah. John shrugged.

" He says it's too easy. That it's boring. Won't give me any other explanation."

" What do you think?"

" I do think that's a part of it..." Replied John, trailing off at the end.

" What else?" Sarah prompted, sensing that her flatmate had some more to say.

"...But I think that there's more to it as well."

" Such as?"

"...I don't believe that he thinks that anybody cares." John explained. Sarah looked intrigued, indicating for the teacher to continue.

" It's like this," John began. " He doesn't have any friends, at least that I know of. His teachers don't like him, various reasons. He and his brother, Mycroft his name is, don't get along too well, it seems they have problems with each other. Mycroft's a drinker and he's not around often, from what I've heard from Sherlock."

"...I see."

" I'm trying to talk to him some, convince him of a few things. Not sure how much I'm getting through. But I'm trying."

oOo

Sherlock finished writing his paper. Overall, it had been really quite easy. He had written it while sitting on the floor of the room, leaning against the wall. He scanned over his paper, making sure it was satisfactory. When he decided that he was content with it, he stood up. Just as he did so, the door to Johns room opened and the teacher stepped in.

" You done yet, Sherlock?" He asked.

" Yes."

Sherlock handed John the paper, who examined it for a moment.

" Good job, Sherlock." He acknowledged , handing the paper back to his student. Sherlock grunted.

" What's the time?" He asked. John checked his watch.

" Eight thirty-seven." He responded. Sherlock nodded slowly.

" Wo- would you mind if I slept?" He asked cautiously. John looked somewhat surprised at the nervous tone in Sherlocks voice, but shook it off quickly.

" If you'd like to, yeah you could sleep. Of course." John responded. Sherlock let out a sigh of relief.

" You don't have any clothes to change into for sleeping in your backpack, do you?" Asked John.

" No."

" Well, we can get them tomorrow I suppose."

"...Right." Responded Sherlock. That would require them entering 221b. Which could be a problem. He'd figure it out later. Sherlock knelt down and untied his shoes, taking them off. He kept his socks on, and lied down on the floor, his head on the pillow that John had provided for him, and pulled a blanket over himself. John smirked a bit at the speed of which the motions were preformed. No warning whatsoever.

" You comfortable there, Sherlock?" He asked, unable to keep the amusement out of his voice.

" Mm hmm." Replied Sherlock, his eyes already closed.

" Right then. I'll probably call it a night in about twenty minutes or so." Informed John.

" Goodnight, John." Sherlock mumbled, being lured into the deepest of sleeps. John smiled.

" Goodnight, Sherlock."

oOo

Nine O'clock. John quietly opened the door to his room and stepped into the darkness, He flipped on his light switch, severely doubting that he would wake Sherlock. John took off his shoes and pulled on a pair of athletic shorts to sleep in. He walked around to the left side of his bed with his shoes in hand, ready to place them where he always did, off to the side of the bed, in front of his nightstand. After doing so he turned around, and his gaze fell on Sherlock. He smile a bit at the sight of his student. His hair was messed up, he was completely sprawled out on his side, and somehow the blanket had migrated to his feet. Sherlock made a bit of noise and rolled from his side and onto his back, his left arm flopping to the floor noiselessly. Johns gaze shifted to the arm. And suddenly his soft smile disappeared. His breathing hitched. The long sleeve of Sherlocks black shirt had come up in his sleep some. Just enough so that two thin, long, evidently very fresh, cuts could be seen. John let out a shaky breath and walked over to Sherlock, his eyes still trained on the cuts. He didn't want to jump to conclusions and desperately hoped that there was some sort of innocent explanation for the cuts. He sat against the wall, next to Sherlock, preparing himself for the discussion that would most likely arise in the next few moments. After a minute he prodded Sherlock gently to wake him up. John hoped as hard as he'd ever hoped that everything he'd thought about those cuts was wrong.

* * *

**DUN DUN DUUUUNNNNN. What do you think should happen? I've got a bit of I planned out, but it's very flexible right now, seeing as how none of it is actually written up. So suggest away! Please! With strawberry jam on top! I will love you forever if you give me ideas for this section! Thanks for all the reviews! It would appear, that is one wants to get a lot of reviews for one chapter, one simply has to starve their readers of updates. Don't worry, I won't make it into a habit. Moving on, please leave a review, or you could PM me, I'll respond. And getting PM's is strangely exiting for some reason. So give some ideas for next chapter, leave a review, and DFTBA! **


	51. Chapter 51

**Feel free to stone me. Disclaimer- Is it possible to obtain stock shares for Sherlock?**

* * *

John prodded Sherlock once more, a bit harder this time around. Sherlock opened his eyes blearily.

"...John?" He asked, still half asleep. John nodded slowly.

" Sherlock, I need for you to sit up." He instructed. Sherlock hesitated a moment, waking himself up all the way. " Now, would be good, thank you." Said John, his voice tight. Sherlock sat himself up and leaned against the wall.

" What do you want, John?" He asked tiredly. John steeled, preparing himself to ask the next question.

" Sherlock...The cuts on your arm, where did they come from?" He asked, his voice controlled. Sherlock froze. His eyes darted to his left arm, the shirt sleeve still rolled up slightly. Hastily he shoved his sleeve all the way back down. His eyes flashed back up to meet Johns.

" Sherlock. Tell me where they came from." The teacher demanded. He studied Sherlock for a moment, trying to gauge what the student was thinking and feeling. Truth be told, Sherlock looked...well, he looked scared. But only for a moment. Because Sherlock quickly put his mask back into place, looking perfectly calm, giving John constant eye contact.

" It's nothing, John. Just some scratches. They happen." Sherlock replied. His eye contact broke for a moment, but was quickly reinstated. John sat down in front of Sherlock.

"...Those don't look like regular scratches, Sherlock." He said gently.

" The what do you suggest they are, John?!" Sherlock snapped, his frustration showing some.

"...You know what I'm suggesting."

No response of any kind.

" How long has it been going on for?" John asked, his voice sober.

" How long has what been going on for?" He responded quickly.

" Don't do that, Sherlock! Don't play games! This is serious!" John said furiously. " Answer the question!"

"...What's the question?"

John swallowed.

" Are- Do you-...do you self-harm?" He asked nervously.

Beat.

" No."

John shook his head, disbelieving.

" Show me your forearms, Sherlock." He said. Now it was Sherlocks turn to be the nervous one. He wouldn't look John in the eye. Not for a fraction of a second.

" That really isn't necessary, John..." He said uncertainly.

" It's absolutely necessary, Sherlock. Come on, roll up your shirt sleeves, let me see your forearms." John requested. Sherlock still looked distrusting.

" Sherlock. Please. Just show me." John asked. The students resolve softened a bit.

" You're- I have to do this?"He asked.

" Yes."

Sherlock nodded slightly.

" You- you won't tell anybody? No matter what it is?" He checked, a panicky, frightened edge to his voice.

" I won't tell."

" You promise?"

" I promise." John replied, completely meaning what he said.

Quickly, wanting to get it over with as fast as he possibly could, Sherlock shoved his left shirt sleeve up. Johns eyes flashed to Sherlock forearms.

" Sherlock..." He breathed. He's shaken by the sight presented before him. Sherlocks forearm is staring at John it seems. Rows upon rows of cuts line the arm. Dozens of them, hundreds of them. Some were faded and white with age, others dark pink and still healing. But the ones that Johns attention are drawn to, are the ones that are clearly fresh, not more than a few days old at most. They line his arm, up and down. For once, Sherlock is extremely grateful for his cuts. At the time at least, his arm is so gashed up that any track marks John may have noticed are unnoticeable. They were pale anyways, they disappear completely in contrast with the rest of his arm. JOhn looked at Sherlock and the student snapped out od his line of thought. John looked incredibly serious, and his tone reflected it.

" Are there more?" He asked. Sherlock shook his head furiously.

" No." He denied. John hesitated for half a moment.

" Shirt off." He demanded. Sherlocks mouth opened to argue, but John didn't allow him the chance. " Shirt. Off."

His voice became more gentle.

" I won't judge you either way, Sherlock. I swear."

Sherlock sniffed a bit, but John didn't allow for his hard stare to let up any. Silence. Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity, but was only about a minute and a half, Sherlocks hands reached towards the bottom of his shirt and pulled it up and over his head before placing it on the ground next to him. Johns silo ions were not incorrect. His eyes flew over Sherlocks upper body. More cuts ran over the area of his students body, lining his bicep and and shoulder. John took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

" You can put your short back on now, Sherlock." He said. Sherlock scrambled for his shirt and pulled it back onto himself as quickly as he could. He then focused back on John, waiting to see what the older man would do. John stood up slowly, his eyes still trained on Sherlock the entire time.

"...We'll talk about this more tomorrow, Sherlock." He stated calmly. Sherlock nodded hesitantly. He'd not been expecting this sir I reaction. He'd expected John to angry at him, or perhaps to ignore him, think him a freak. He hadn't been expecting for John to...want to talk about it? Is that what he would be doing? It appeared so. Sherlock finished his mod silently. John bit his lip nervously for a moment before turning around and flipping the light off. Sherlock lay down and pulled the blanket up to cover himself, his mind reeling with the events of the last few minutes. A couple of seconds later Johns bed creaked as he climbed in and became settled. Sherlock, recognizing that there was nothing he could do about his situation, at least for the time being, closed his eyes and drifted back into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

** I'm terribly sorry about how long that took to get posted. It took me forever to get this chapter written, I wanted to get the dialogue right and it took a lot longer than I thought it would. I've already got 52 written and it should be posted tomorrow. Friday at the very latest, I promise. Life has stopped being as hectic, so I will be getting back onto a chapter a day basis. So, please leave a review, you could tell me what you want to see during the pairs conversation, or anything else you'd like to see. Thanks for reading, have a wonderful day, and DFTBA!**


	52. Chapter 52

**Yeah, I lied a bit. Shoot me. Or enjoy the chapter and keep getting more. Your - Maybe I could get Mycroft to change the ownership of of Sherlock to my name. By until then, I don't own it.**

* * *

John had no such luck of sleeping. He lay awake in his bed, mind whirling over what had just happened. Sherlock. Sherlock was a self harmer. John felt like a fool for not having recognized this fact earlier. All the clues had been presented to him, he'd just not been paying enough attention to put them all together. Earlier that day, during the time with Sherlock before school and while the pair had been eating lunch together, the student had been tugging at his left shirt sleeve. That was a hint right there. Sherlock had stopped th motion the moment he saw that John had noticed it. When Sherlock had handed on his work sheet, there had been a spot of blood, but he'd written it off to be from a paper cut. How could he have missed all the hints that had pointed to he answer? A slightly more pressing matter though, was what to do about the problem that was presented. Why would Sherlock feel the need to hurt himself in such a way? What was the situation of his life that drove him to cut? John couldn't think of any, he'd never been there himself. He remembered back to his own teenage years. Back when he was younger, around 14, was when Harry had come out and told the family about her sexuality. There had been a few minutes of stunned silence before all hell broke loose. There had been finger pointing and accusations, and a thousand other things, all going on at the same time. John, had quietly removed himself from the scene and locked himself in his room, choosing to pour over his books and ignore the commotion emitting from the rest of the house. John refused to take sides on the matter, his parents or Harry's, and to a certain degree was removed from the rest of his family. He was the standalone, the rebel, the divergent, the unaccounted for factor. He had his school friends, from his classes and on his rugby team, so he wasn't exactly lonely, but from that point on, at home at least, it seemed as if he was ignored a little more, cared for a little less. Several times the thought of self harm fluttered through his mind. Never too often and the urge was never too strong. He thought it might help. How it would have helped, he hadn't the faintest clue. The thought would be there, and then several seconds later it would be as if the notion had never entered his mind. So although he occasionally entertained the thought for a few brief seconds, he ever actually felt as if he need to press a blade against his own skin. The memories,, the feelings that he had experienced years ago, ran through Johns mind in a matter of seconds. What made Sherlock want to do what he did? Despite having memories of considering it, John could not quite understand. He gave up thinking about it and why his student did it, focusing instead on what events the next day would hold. Sherlock had sort of agreed to talk about it. At least, he hadn't argued and had nodded a bit. So, hopefully, he might be open about the situation. It was a long shot, but it just might happen. But how would he, John, react? He really wasn't sure how to act. He wasn't even sure how he was supposed to react. John did t think he should respond with anger. No, he thought, that would probably be quite bad. But, he realized a few seconds later, he was angry. He was furious in fact. He was infuriated that Sherlock would treat himself this way. It was rubbish that Sherlock thought so low of himself. It was a problem that would need to be resolved later. But first John would have to overcome the problems presented by his own emotions.

* * *

**And there we are. Please else a review on your way out, suggestions are still very extremely welcome for the talk in up coming chapters. Thanks to everyone who reviewed these last few chapters, you guys are smothered in awesomesauce. Thanks for reading, have a spectacular day, and DFTBA!**


	53. Chapter 53

*** Trumpets playing triumphantly in the background* I give to you, chapter 53. *Gives* Enjoy! Disclaimer- I don't own Sherlock. Mycroft owns Sherlock. obviously.**

* * *

John rolled over on his stomach and turned off his alarm clock. He sat up and glanced over to where Sherlock slept. Except the student wasn't sleeping. Rather he was sitting up, leaning against the wall, playing with his hands in an absent-minded fashion.

" How long have you been up for, then?" John asked, surprise in his voice. Sherlock glanced up.

" Probably about an hour." He responded. John climbed out of his bed and nodded slowly at Sherlock.

" What've you been doing?" He asked cautiously. Sherlock shrugged.

" Thinking."

Another nod.

"...You can trust me to be on my own for a couple of hours, John." Sherlock said, a slight frown on his face. John took a sharp breath.

" Ah. Yes. I was just curious, that's all."

Sherlock grunted in response and stood up from where he sat on the blankets. John watched Sherlock, as the student stretched himself out wordlessly.

"...There's some granola bars in the kitchen if you want to eat one for breakfast." John mentioned.

" And if I'm not hungry?" Sherlock asked, his left eyebrow raised.

" Let me rephrase that. There are some granola bars in the kitchen. Go eat one."

Sherlock smirked a bit, but exited the room, leaving John alone. John closed the door and changed into clothes that were acceptable for school. More time alone, more time to think. Excellent. When would he talk to Sherlock? _How, _would he talk to Sherlock? John had no experience in these remarkably foggy waters. He didn't know how to talk to a teenager about these types of things, let alone Sherlock of all people. That simple fact probably made the entire situation twice as difficult to deal with than it would normally need to be. John shook his head, clearing his mind some as he put his bag together, piling papers into it and grabbing pens. He would figure out how to talk with Sherlock at a different time. Something he might actually be able to figure out right at the moment however, was when he might be able to initiate the talk. Right now was undoubtedly out of the question No possible way.

The drive to St. Bards? No.

During lunch time that day. John considered it for a moment, but decided against it. Sherlock might skip out on lunch today if he thought that John was going to talk to him. So that was out. When the day was over and the pair were back at the flat, that's when John would bring it up. Hopefully they would have stopped at Sherlocks flat and gathered some of his things, and would thus be set up for the night, allowing for the pair to talk without interruption.

John finished getting all of his things together, grabbing them and leaving his room, walking ou to the kitchen to join Sherlock.

Sherlock sat at the table, slowing consuming a granola bar. When John entered the room he glanced up and set his food down, looking a bit nervous. John examined the scene for a moment, and grabbed the two lunches he had prepared the night before, placing them in his bag.

" You ready to leave, then?" He asked causally. Sherlock stood up and grabbed his backpack.

" Yeah. You?"

" Pretty much."

Nothing.

"...Right then. Come on, let's get going." John said. The pair made their way out to Johns car, where the teacher proceeded to start-up his vehicle and begin the daily drive to school.

oOo

_20 minutes later_

John and Sherlock stepped out of the parked car. Sherlock grabbed his backpack, and walked backwards a couple of steps, facing John while he did so.

"...I'm just gonna go hang out in the library till school starts...If that's alright..." He said uncertainly. Johns heart sunk some at this, but nodded anyways. Sherlock hesitated for just half a second before turning around and began, almost running, to head to the schools library.

John shook his head a bit as he made his way to the office. Why was Sherlock acting so nervous around John? He hadn't said anything that may have caused this, had he? The teacher chuckled to himself. Just him knowing about Sherlocks self harm most likely made the teenager nervous around him. Sherlock was probably scared that John would reject him for what he did. John resolved to let Sherlock know that he wouldn't push him away for this. Another thing added to the already quite long list of things that would need to be discussed that night. There was nothing in the office for him, and as he left the building John peeked in the library, making sure that Sherlock was really in there. Sure enough, he was at a table, buried in a book. Reassured John began heading back to his classroom. He arrived shortly, walking faster than he normally might, as it was really quite cold outside. He entered and closed the door to the room, flipping on light switches. John checked the time quickly. And it hit him. Lesson plans. He didn't have one. He must have forgotten to make them last night, what with everything else happening. John groaned and pulled out papers out of his bag, fetching a book as well. Thirty-two minutes to get this thing done and refined. So much for thinking of ways to get Sherlock to talk.

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**...It's taking an awfully long time to do this. Oh well, stuff needs to happen. It'll all work out. I swear to you on fishfingers and custard. Please leave a review, I love reviews. You probably already know this from all the other times I've asked for reviews, but I feel like saying it every chapter. *hinthint* Much thanks to everyone who has give me ideas for the next couple of chapters, I think it's going to shape up quite nicely once it's all written out. So basically, you guys are epic, have a fantastic day, and DFTBA!**


	54. Chapter 54

**You know why this chapter took so long to be posted? Mostly because I hate it. I rewrote this like four seperate times, and I still hate it. Go forth and read. Disclaimer- I don't own Mycroft, but he probably owns me.**

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Sherlock shut his book and glanced up at the clock that resided on the far wall of the library. Twelve minutes until hius first class. Sherlock grumbled to himself a bit, he really didn't want to go to class. Which wasn't unusual. He realized what it was that was strange. He didn't want to see John, didn't want to face him, which _was_ unusual. Very much so. Sherlock didn't want to converse with John, the teacher would make him talk, explain his situation, why he chose to cut.

Sherlock threw his backpack over his shoulders and left the library. What would he even tell John? How could he explain his reasoning? Sherlock was pretty much convinced by his own reasoning that, even if he explained everything as best he could, John still wouldn't understand. He would want Sherlock to stop. Sherlocks breath caught some at this realization. John was going to make him stop. This fact was almost certain. As long as Sherlock was staying with the teacher, he couldn't cut.

Sherlock arrived at the door to Johns classroom and opened it, entering the room quickly and silently. John was at his desk, scribbling furiously on some paper. Quietly, making a point not to draw attention to himself, Sherlock made his way to his desk. He set his backpack on the desk, creating a small rustling sound. This caught Johns attention and his head shot up, gaze settling on Sherlock.

" Didn't see that you came in." He noted. Sherlock grunted.

" I expect not...What are you doing?"

John finished writing, setting his pen down and pushed the papers off to the side.

" Just todays lesson plans. You've been in the library?"

Sherlock nodded silently.

" Reading." He responded.

" What about?"

" Just some chemistry books."

" Mmm."

The conversation sputtered to a stop, and a few seconds later the bell rang. John rose from his desk, walked over to the door and opened it, allowing for students outside to enter. A few walked in and took their seats, Anderson being among them. As he walks to his desk he scoped out Sherlock, examining his peer. At the sight of his fellow student Anderson smirks, and Sherlock shirks slightly. John noticed the pairs actions towards each other and turned away. He would have to talk with Anderson some time soon. Sherlock would most likely skip out on lunch today, so perhaps he would be able to catch Anderson then. Donovan as well.

So all in all, lesson plans were made, lunch plans were made, and John had some sort of an idea on how he could confront Sherlock later that night.

John just hoped that everything went accordingly.

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**And that's that. Feel free to leave a review if you feel so inclined. Whoever leaved the 300th review gets...something. A plotline. Whoever leaves the 300th review, can leave a minor plotline that they wish to happen, and I'll work on it. Pinky promise. On another note, something of interest actually happens next chapter! Which will (most likely) be posted tomorrow. **

**PenguinsinTuxes- First off, let me commend you on your name. Secondly, I'm currently trying to work on Mollys part, if you have any suggestions, leave them in a review or PM me.**

** - Moriaty...Could be very interesting indeed...I'll keep that in mind. Thanks for the great idea!**


	55. Chapter 55

**SO. I owe you an explanation of why I said I would update the next day and then it took me two months to actually do so. It wasn't 'cause I forgot or anything. basically, what happened was that some of my grades were pretty sucky, so my mother and father took away all technology I had access to until I was able to bring them back up, thus disabling me from updating. I'm really, really beyond sorry about how longs its taken me to type this. My apologies. Go forth and enjoy this ridiculously overdue update! Disclaimer- Among the list of things that I don't own are: Series seven of Doctor Who, the country of Albania, and the rights to Sherlock.**

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The next three hours passed without much more occurence than typical for a science classroom, a few misplaced chemicals was all, really. When the time came, John dismissed his last class before break, and then began towards the cafeteria himself. He needed to find Anderson, see what the boy had to say for himself and his actions. John still wasn't entirely sure what he was going to do with their conversation, most likely he would let Anderson off with a warning, avoid drawing unnecessary attention to the scenario by dishing out a punishment.

He arrived at the lunchroom, and gave it a searching look over, seeing if he could locate Anderson. After a quick moment, John spotted him, and began making his way over to Anderson. He reached where he was going, standing behind the student, and tapped him on the shoulder, causing his head to whip around, effectively distracting him from the conversation he had been having with the rest of the table he sat with.

" Mr. Watson?" He recognized. John nodded shortly at this.

" Christopher," He said, calling to memory the boys first name.

" Chris." The student corrected. John ignored it.

" Right." He dismissed. " I need you to come with me." He glanced over the table. " Sally, you too."

" Why?" Asked Sally, her eyebrow arched in a suspicious manner.

" Because I said so." John answered, using his authority as a teacher to prevent Sally from asking any more questions. " I need to talk to you two about some things."

With that, John turned and began walking away. Anderson and Sally scrambled to gether their things and quickly raced to catch up with the teacher.

" Where are we going?" Anderson asked.

" Just back to my classroom." John replied.

The trio walked in silence for several more minutes before turning the corner that led to the room. John looked up from the ground in front of him, which he had been watching in order to avoid stepping on one of the many pieces of gum that littered the campus, and was met by a rather surprising sight.

He had been confident that Sherlock would skip out on lunch. Sure of it, no doubt in his mind. Yet there he stood, not quite twenty-five feet before him, right in front of the classroom.

" Sherlock!" John called as he approached. Sherlock glanced up and looked over at John, then caught sight if Sally and Anderson. He took a step back away from the group, studying them all for a moment before speaking.

" I'm off, then" He declared carefully, turning away.

" Sherlock, wait-" JOhn began.

Sherlock spun back around.

" I'll see you later, John. Really. It's just- Not with them." He said, motioning to Johns company.,

He turned away again and walked away,taking the first corner he came to in order to escape the sights of the group. Anderson smirked a bit at Sherlocks exit and turned to Sally some.

" What was that all about?" He murmured. Sally shrugged. Anderson switched his attention back to John who was unlocking the door to his room.

" Why was he here?" Inquired Sally. The door opened and the three entered the room, leaving the slightly chilly conditions of the outside, John turning on the lights as he did so.

"...Sherlock eats lunch with me everyday. He was waiting for me, I just didn't expect for him to be here."

" Why not?"

John ran a hand through his hair.

" Just- I just didn't. Didn't think he would be here, so I figured I could bring you two into talk to."

" What did you want to talk to us about?" Anderson asked cautiously.

John leaned against the plastered wall some, deciding how to best respond.

"...Actually, I wanted to talk with you about your interactions with Sherlock."

Silence.

" More specifically, about your interactions with him _yesterday."_ John pressed.

" We didn't do that, Mr. Watson." Anderson hurriedly defended. John looked skeptical.

" Really?"

" No. And besides, you couldn't prove that it was us, even if we did do it. You haven't got any evidence."

" I've got Sherlocks word." Retorted John. Anderson scoffed.

" And you trust him?!"

" As it would happen, yeah, I do trust him on this."

"...You still don't have any solid proof that it was us." Sally pointed out.

" I don't _want _to prove that it was you. If I really did want to do that, I'm sure I could pull up enough evidence to get the both of you suspended for harassment. But I'm not going to do that." John replied, his voice calm.

" You think you've got evidence? Like what?" Sally challenged.

" Like you always calling Sherlock a freak, Sally. THat's harassment. And like how the way he acts around the pair of you suggest intimidation, also a form of harassment. But like I said, I'm not going to bring that up."

"...What _are_ you going to do them?" Anderson asked, soaking in everything John was saying.

" I want you two to promise me that you'll leave Sherlock alone from now on. Do that, and I won't report you. What do you say?"

" Fine." Said Sally, almost no hesitation in her voice. Satisfied, John turned to face Anderson.

" And you, Christopher?"

Anderson didn't reply for a short moment.

"...I suppose." He grudgingly agreed. John stared hard at him for a moment longer, before breaking the silence that had enveloped them.

" Good. That's good. But, just so you know, if I get word that you're out and about, screwing around with Sherlock, I really will report you next time. Do you understand me?"

Both students nodded quietly.

" Alright." John paused, seeing if there was anything else he needed to cover. "...I suppose you can go now. There's really nothing else I have to say to you."

Anderson nodded his compliance shortly.

" Come on, Sally." He muttered, turning away from JOhn and towards the exit of the classroom door. Sally said something underneath her breath to Anderson as the pair exited the room.

John watched as the two left the c;lass and the door closed. All things considered, that really hadn't gone too badly. After all, _had _manged to get both Donovan and Anderson to lay off of Sherlock for the time being, and there hadn't even been that much confrontation about it, taking into account the issue.

Maybe, with just the right amount of luck, the rest of Johns day might run just as smoothly.

* * *

**And there we have it. I really will honestly try to update tomorrow. In the mean time, why don't you go ahead and leave a review? They motivate me to write better, and I'll gladly accept ideas that are left in them. Whether you leave a review or not, (you absolutely should) have a brilliant day and DFTBA!**


	56. Chapter 56

**Here we have...an on time chapter?! What sorcery is this?!...Maybe Britian finally got his dark magic right and this came about as a result. Enjoy! Disclaimer- I own the pencil that could someday be used to sign my name on the rights to Sherlock. It's just a matter of time.**

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Sherlock made his way around the school campus, walking aimlessly, yet still managing be heading towards the library, purely out of the repetitive habit. What had John been doing with Anderson and Donovan? Yesterday he'd said that he would talk to them, that was probably it, Sherlock realized. John certainly was following up on his promises rather quickly. Sherlock couldn't quite recognize how this made him feel. On one hand, he was incredibly grateful that the teacher was trying to help him, getting Sally and Anderson to leave him alone. On the other metaphysical hand, he was still weary. Yes, John had demonstrated kindness towards him, talking with him, bringing him lunch, letting Sherlock into his home even, but still. He wasn't used to this, wasn't used to people caring for him, accepting him for who he was. It was a different experience, and it was taking one for him to get used to.

After all, fifteen years couldn't just be undone in a week and a half.

oOo

John finished up his lunch and tossed the bag into the bin that resided next to his desk. He stood up and stretched himself out, walking over to the chalkboard. He grabbed the eraser and began doing the work on the board, rewriting the lesson for his next class.

Why had Sherlock shown up?! It was the question that kept nagging at John. There had been _no_ chance whatsoever that Sherlock would come to his classroom, and yet he had been there anyways. Why? After last nights discussion, what could posses him to show up? It was clear from Sherlocks reaction last night; His reluctance to pull up his sleeves for John, the way he'd lied to avoid confrontation, and the short answers he had given, that he wanted nothing to do with talking to John about his current situation. Of course Sherlock knew what would happen if he showed up for lunch. So why had he come anyways? Did he just not want to eat lunch alone, preferring to spend it with John even though he knew what would happen?

Did he really trust John that much? Maybe. It seemed a strange thing, almost as if untouchable, but that just might be it

With a start John realized that Sherlock most probably had not eaten his lunch. Damn. Of course he harm eaten, by now he would most likely be in the library, reading the time away until it was time for fifth period. No way he'd taken he initiative and eaten with nobody to press him to do so. With a slightly exasperated mental sigh, John made a note to get Sherlock to eat something when they got home.

Home. Associating his student with the flat where he lived in. It was funny. And unusual. And maybe a bit difficult to wrap his head around entirely. The thought occurred to John that Sherlock had nothing with him, save the meager contents of his backpack. On the drive back to the flat after school had finished, John would need to make sure and stop by 221b and let Sherlock gather some of his things, clothes and such, for his stay.

However long that may be.

**This chapter was originally going to be longer, but I really wnantex to be able to update tonight so I settled for a slightly shorter chapter. Forgive me. On a lighter note, it would be lovely I you could leave a review by pressing that little button that like to make my day 20% better.  
**

**Lily- Thanks for the review. Your comments actually helped shape this chapter a bit, and some of the stuff might be a useful s for a few later chapters. Like maybe the next one. I don't know, that requires the ability to be able to accurately plan out chapters.**

**Guest 1- *blushes* Thanks for that, it was quite nice of you to say.**

**Cookie05- Firstly, your penname. Don't think I've ever commented on it before. Now I have, and can check that off of my to do list. Secondly, thank you.**

**Guest 2- Also thank you (I seem to be strapped of creative words :/) In retrospect, reviews pretty much make my day a lot of the time.**

**OH. Also, since this didn't work out last time, whoever leaves the 310th review can leave a plot line and I'll make a point to write it in, and maybe extend it into a full plot line if I can. *leans back and watches evily* THE GAME IS ON.**

**So, everybody have a fantastic day, and DFTBB!**


	57. Chapter 57

**And here would be your chapter! Sorry, about the late update, I actually had this written about four or five days ago, but I couldn't seem to get on the computer. Anyways, enjoy! Disclaimer- How could winning the lottery change my life? Well, for starters, I wouldn't have to write all these disclaimers. **

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The bell rang, signifying thew end of the lunch break. Sherlock took a deep breath and let it out slowly, disappointed that his reading opportunity was over, but closing the chemistry book he was working his way through all the same. He stood up and re-shelved it, throwing his backpack over his shoulder, and began towards the English classroom, in no real hurry.

He arrived several minutes later, and opened the door, entering the room and taking his seat, ignoring the somewhat awkward stares the were being cast directly at him by some of the other students. Sherlock took out his notebook of experiments and plopped it on his desk before returning to his backpack to rummage through it, retrieving a black pen from one of its outermost pockets. As Mrs. Barclay began class, Sherlock continued to scribble away in his notebook, drawing Bohr's diagrams, refining theory's, and writing up some of the many experiments he hoped to perform in the near future. Perhaps his English and History classes wouldn't be entirely too terrible.

oOo

_Two hours later_

John wrapped up his last class of the day with a minute and a half left to spare, according ti the classroom clock. Checking his watch, he glanced up at the bumbling, impatient student body seated in front of him.

" Right." He began. " You can all pack up, I suppose."

The students hurriedly began to shove their things into their bags, the volume of the room rising steadily with each passing second. The last bell of the day rang, and the class started rushing towards the door, all loud voices and excitable energy. JOhn began packing his own things up as well, piling notebooks, test, and other such things into it. He gave it a quick overview, double checking that he had everything he needed before hitching said bag on his shoulder and leaving the room, flipping off the lights and locking the door on his way out. Attendance papers in hand, he made his way to the office, vaguely wondering where Sherlock might be, but not being particularly concerned over the matter. They would end up running into each other, after all, they always managed it somehow.

John stepped into the office, exchanged a short dialogue with Alice as he gave her his papers, and stepped back out, very nearly plowing over Sherlock in the process, much to Johns surprise.

" You, appear out of nowhere." John noted dryly after a moment, a slightly disbelieving edge to his voice. Sherlock shrugged some.

" I suppose." He replied, his manner nonchalant. John shook his head, discarding the mild surprise, and began walking, motioning with his hand for Sherlock to follow him.

" Come on, then." He invited.

Sherlock sped up his pace a little until he was side by side with the teacher.

" Figure we can stop by your place on the way home, you can pick up your stuff that way." John informed.

" I'm sorry?!" Sherlock asked, his voice squeaking slightly, giving away the fact that he had been caught unawares. John glanced at his student and arched a curious eyebrow.

" We're stopping at your flat so you can get your stuff." John restated. " That okay?"

Sherlock nodded shortly.

" Yeah, that's...It's fine." He responded, his mind working in overdrive. No, it most certainly was _not_ fine. He still didn't have his key, Mycroft still wasn't home, he had no was of getting into 221. And chances were that John wouldn't just accept that. No, he would ask Sherlock exactly why he wasn't able to get in, a question that had the potential to lead into a very interesting conversation indeed.

The pair arrived at Johns car just as Sherlock snapped out of his train of thought. The both of them placed their things in the back seat of the vehicle and clambered in.

"...I live at 221B Baker Street." Sherlock supplied, clearing his throat uneasily as he did so. John nodded, starting up the car and pulling out of the schools parking lot.

" Right."

Silence followed.

" What's it like at your flat most of the time?" John inquired, curiosity getting the better of him as he attempted to start a conversation.

" Quiet." Sherlock answered. " It's-...You know, Mycroft's not around a whole lot, so most of the time it's just me there."

" Mmm...What's it like when he_ is _around?"

" I usually make a point not to spend too much time hanging around when Mycroft's at the flat as well, John." Said Sherlock, his voice pointed just a bit, letting John know that this was a subject he didn't particularly enjoy discussing.

" Ah."

The car turned a corner.

" What do you usually do when you're alone, then?"

" Chemistry, read, violin." Sherlock listed off. " I walk around quite a bit as well, I suppose."

" What type of chemistry?"

Sherlock shrugged.

" Just some experiments. There are a couple substances I'm trying to make."

John laughed.

" What, have you got a crack-cocaine lab set up in your room?" He asked in an easygoing, joking manner.

Sherlock froze, giving no response. No way could John know about his habit. No. Fucking. Way.

Noticing the lack of reaction from his student, John cast a glance at Sherlock. When he noticed the serious, almost-but-not-quite scared look on his features, Johns own smile melted, sliding right off his face.

" Sherlock?" He asked, a hint of concern managing to work its way into his tone. Sherlock looked over at John, a smile lighting up his face as he gave a slight laugh. Of course John couldn't know, he was being over reactive.

" No," Sherlock answered, his voice light. " I'm working on making Copper Sulfide crystals, that's all."

" I see." John glanced out the window. " This your place?" He checked. Sherlock looked out the window and nodded.

" Yeah." He confirmed. The car halted to a stop and Sherlock climbed out, opening the cars back door to retrieve his backpack.

" What's that for?" John asked, poking his head out the window.

" I've got my key in here." Sherlock lied easily. John nodded his understanding as Sherlock made his way over to the flats door, setting his bag down and kneeling next to it. He opened it up and began searching through it, praying that he could find something, _anything,_ that could help him get out of this situation. After a moment or two, he finally found what he was looking for: A piece of solid Copper wire, about four inches in length. Standing back up. Sherlock bent the end into a 90 degree angle and stuck it into the keyhole, jiggling it around. He pressed te bent end up, feeling the first of the rods within the hole move up, clicking into place and staying. Biting his tongue, hoping he could pull this off, he found another rod and pushed it up, hearing the satisfying _click_. I t was a standard lock, meaning that there were five of these rods. Two dow, three to go, and he was making decent time. He quickly realized that John thought he was using his key. This was taking considerably longer than using a key should take. He popped the wire into the keyhole once more an turned around, shooting John a sheepish grin

" Can't seem to get it in the hole right." He called. " It's always been a bit sticky like that." He assured, turning back to the task at hand. He pushed the wire up and the thrid rod followed the previous tows actions. Sherlock carefully ran the wire under the rods, trying to find the fourth. The wire caught and he adjusted it, pressing up on the second to last rod.

Copper, is element number 29 on the Periodic Table. It is the second best conductor of electricity at room temperature, bettered only by Silver. Its electronegativity and electron configuration is 1.9 and [Ar]3d(10)4s(1) respectively. It is one of the two elements on the entirety of the Table that is not some version of the color grey. But most of all, what Copper is know and used for, is tha fact that it is a malleable, ductile, _soft_, metal.

So, as Sherlock pressed up on the fourth rod, his makeshift lock pick, true to its elemental nature, gave way under the pressure, bending in the middle. The bend hit one of the already clicked rods, causing it to lose its unlocked condition, as well as the other two, all extended down, back into their original, secured position.

" Shit." Sherlock swore. Now he would have to restart the entire bloody thing, and hope that he could get it right this time around, and-

" Sherlock?!"

And hope that John wasn't getting suspicious of the inordinate amount of th=ime this as taking him. Crap.

_Clang_

The noise of the car door shutting sounded, closely followed by the familiarly weighted footsteps of John. Sherlock let his head rest on the door with a solid thud, unholy amounts of curses running through his mind. What could he do about this?!

Nothing. Not a damn thing he could do about this, to prevent it from happening. Sherlock screwed his eyes shut. He would have to improvise, think on his feet. Keep his lies straight.

John arrived next to Sherlock.

" Having quite a bit of trouble with that key, hey?" He asked, slightly amused.

"...Yeah." Sherlock replied.

" Want me to do it? Show you how it's done?"

"..."

" Sherlock?" John asked, his eyebrows knitting together.

"...I haven't got the key, John." Sherlock admitted, his voice flat.

"...What?!"

" The key. I don't have it."

" But- What's been taking you so long up here, then?" John sputtered.

" I-" Sherlock started.

" You said you were having trouble with the key." John reminded him. " Why did you say you had the key?"

" I was trying to pick the lock." Explained Sherlock. "...That's a bit like a key. So..." He trailed off uncertainly, shoving his hands into his jean pockets.

" How long ago did you lose your key?" John inquired, suddenly curious.

" Probably today." Sherlock deceived. " I had it yesterday, so-"

" No you didn't." John interrupted, remembering. Sherlock froze. " You always wear your key on your belt loop. I've noticed, it makes this jingly noise whenever you move. And I can see it."

" Well, that's-"

" You didn't have it on today _or _yesterday." Joh pointed out, the expression on his face serious. " I would have noticed. So when _did _you lose it?"

" Probably yesterday morning." Sherlock muttered. John stared at Sherlock, hard. Then, a look of realization dawned upon him.

" You didn't have your key on Friday." He said slowly.

" I did-"

" No." John cut off, struggling to keep his voice calm and under control. " I didn't see it a single time on Friday. I saw it on Thursday, but not on Friday."

" John."

" How did you get in here on Friday?!" The teacher demanded to know. Sherlock averted his gaze to the ground, mind working furiously, no results forthcoming.

" Sherlock.: John pressed, his voice steely.

"...I didn't get in on Friday." Sherlock paused slightly. " I- I lost it on Thursday afternoon." He admitted, faltering slightly.

John blinked.

" Thursday afternoon." He repeated, clarifying.

Sherlock nodded.

" Thursday. After. Noon."

Another silent nod.

" Where have you been staying at! Where the _hell_ have you been, Sherlock?! Where have you been sleeping?!" Said John, clearly furious at this new development. Sherlock eyes darted back and forth before responding.

" I've been hanging about in...alleys, a lot."

" You've been sleeping in _alleys?!"_

Sherlock shook his head.

" Not sleeping. Just staying in."

John stared.

" Before last night, when was the last time that you slept?"

Everything was out in the open now, Sherlock might as well be honest.

" Really, properly slept. Passing out in my classroom for forty minutes doesn't count as sleep."

"...Monday night, I think."

" That was a week ago!" Exclaimed John.

" I'm well aware." Sherlock heatedly replied. " That's _why_ I keep passing out in you classroom, John."

" So, let me get this straight. You haven't slept in a week, you've been staying out in streets and alleys for three of four days, and you probably haven't eaten in about the same. Am I right?"

" ...Just about." Sherlock confirmed, carefully avoiding eye-contact. John buried his face in his hands.

" You've got to be bloody kidding me..." He muttered to himself. He looked back up at Sherlock and then at the still locked door of 221b. Sherlock glanced nervously at John.

" I almost had the door unlocked." He mentioned in an offhand fashion.

" What happened?"

Sherlock brandished his bent piece of wire.

" This gave way, made the entire thing come undone. Have you got a paperclip by any chance?"

John looking mildly disbelieving at Sherlokcs apparently relaxed attitude, but gave a short nod anyways.

" Yeah," He replied, digging into his pockets. He pulled out the paperclip and handed it to Sherlock, who immediately began bending it, and shoved it into the keyhole, manipulating it into opening for him.

" Took it off a stack of papers earlier." The teacher explained.

" Mmm." Sherlock halfway responded, his mind obviously elsewhere.

After about thirty seconds, Sherlock extracted the paperclip from the hole and turned the knob, stepping into the flat. John raised an eyebrow, impressed. When had Sherlock picked up his lock picking skills?

The student grabbed his backpack.

" I'll be back in a minute." He said before disappearing into the flat, turning a corning and removing himself from view.

John waited at the doorway, halfway inside the flat, halfway outside of it.

His student had been living on the streets, and he'd never told John, never even _hinted_ at it. Never told John that he hadn't been sleeping, or anything else.

It made him wonder just how much Sherlock was still keeping him in the dark about.

* * *

**Yeah, this chapter took me a good long time to write, and I'm pretty happy with it. I need some ideas though. When do you guys think John should find out about Sherlocks drug use? Like, should Sherlock make an incredibly poor decision and grab the cocaine from his room, and I can just have a really fun time writing out what happens when/if John finds out and flips his shiz? Or should I wait a bit longer? Or do something else entirely? It's up to you guys. So go ahead and leave a review with what you want to happen, who your favorite pony is, or what you thought of this chapter! Wherever you are, and whatever you do, have a most excellent day, and DFTBA!**


	58. 58

**Sorry this chapter is so late. stuff has been happening and...Gah. Hate this chapter, just so you know, don't really know what happened with it. Hope you sort of like it at least. Also, I have decided to name this chapter, even though I tend not to do that in this particular story. So this is chapter 58, 'The Increasingly Poor Decisions of Sherlock Holmes' The name just would not leave me alone.**

**Disclaimer- As stated in other stories, I don't own Doctor Who. So I must not be Moffat. By a simple deduction, we can conclude that I also don't own Sherlock.**

* * *

Sherlock threw his backpack on his bed nd began digging around his room, searching for clothes to take over to John's place. He grabbed a few pairs of jeans, dark blue and baggy, and tossed them in his bag. He looked around at his surroundings for a minute, trying to find a shirt. The realization that most of his shirts were unclean left him with two clean shirts and three of four dirty ones in his bag; A mixture of short and long sleeves.

He glanced around his room quickly. Was there anything else he could grab?

Of course there was.

Sherlock flinched violently at the thought. No way he could bring that.

Could he?

It was an iffy prospect, but yes, if he wanted to, he could get it. After all, it wasn't as if John would be searching through his backpack, hoping to find something out of place.

With a perfectly calm mind (Sherlock found this to be the smallest bit concerning), Sherlock made his way over to his bookcase, standing next to it for a moment before reaching behind it and searching, his hand latching onto the plastic bag after a few seconds, and pulled it up. He glanced at it, trying to gauge how much of his drug was in there. Not much, a few grams at most. Shrugging, he put the put the bag in the absolute bottom of his backpack, taking great pains to make sure that it was covered by assorted articles of clothing, but not enough weight piled on top of it to crack the plastic syringe that was in the plastic bag as well.

Slightly flustered, but managing to keep a reasonably convincing calm demeanor, Sherlock threw his backpack over his shoulders, glanced around his room one last time, giving a longing look at his chemical experiments, and then left the room, closing the door softly on his way out. He walked through the flat and met up with John, who was still standing at the doorway.

" You've got your stuff, then?" The older man asked, motioning to Sherlock's backpack, which was considerable fuller than it had previously been. Sherlock nodded.

" Shirts and jeans. That's pretty much it."

" And you're sure that'll be all you'll need?"

" Yeah."

Pause.

" Right then. Let's go." Said John, turning from Sherlock and starting towards his car. Sherlock followed, pout his backpack in the back seat, and got in, sitting next to John.

John silently started the car up.

" Why didn't you tell me?" He asked, pulling the vehicle away from the curb and onto the street.

" Tell you what?" Sherlock questioned.

" You know what." John said, a dangerous edge to his voice.

"...It wasn't important enough to tell you about."

" The hell it was." John called out. " The real reason, Sherlock. Now."

" I don't know." Sherlock said quietly. " I was dealing fine and you didn't need to be aware of the situation, and I just really didn't want for you to know any more bout my life than you already did."

" Oh." Was all John said.

" Yeah." Sherlock agreed. " Oh."

"...You think that you were handling the situation fine?" John asked, slightly skeptical.

" I was." Sherlock pressed. " I had means of obtaining funds. I had a place to stay. Sort of. _You_ sure didn't notice anything, so I assume that I was doing a fine job."

John had nothing to say to that.

Sherlock leaned against the window and stared out of it.

He didn't really have anything to say either.

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**There we have it. Feel free to give me as much crap about this chapter as you like in a review, if you are so compelled to do so. All of you amazing people who have continued to follow this story, have a great day and DFTBA!**


	59. Chapter 59

***drumroll* New chapter time! Had this one written for a few days, but haven't had a chance to get it written. But here it is since I was finally able to get on a computer. Enjoy! Disclaimer- Unless Moffat's having some mid-life identity crisis, and somehow reverted into a thirteen year old, I don't own the show.**

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John pulled the car into his parking spot, turning off the engine.

"There we are, then." He said, exiting the vehicle, and making his way over to the door of his flat. Sherlock retrieved his things and joined John, stepping into the flat and closing the door behind him.

"Why don't you go put your stuff in my room, I need to talk to Sarah real quick." Said John. Sherlock nodded shortly.

"Right." He replied, turning towards John's room. John watched Sherlock for a moment before walking over to Sarah's room, then knocking lightly at the door.

"What is it, John?" Came his flatmate's voice, muffled slightly by the wooded door.

"Can I come in?" John asked, leaning against the hallway wall a bit.

"I suppose." Came the uncertain reply. Relieved at this, John turned the brass knob and pushed the door open, stepping into the room and closing the door once he was in the room.

"What's up?" Sarah questioned, looking John over for any clues. "Is Sherlock with you?"

John swallowed and nodded.

"Yeah, actually that's what I need to talk with you about-" He broke off suddenly. Wait. Was he really about to do tell Sarah what he thought he was going to tell her? About Sherlock's self harm? It seemed important for her to know, but still... Would he actually tell Sarah before he even talked with Sherlock himself about the matter?

"John?"

Nope. He wouldn't do it, he wouldn't betray Sherlock like that. When had the idea even entered his mind?

"...Nothing, Sarah." John dismissed. "You- Just that you might want to leave him alone tonight, alright?"

"Why?" Sarah inquired. John rubbed at the back of his neck nervously.

"I need to talk to him about some things and chances are that he's not going to be very happy about it."

"What do you need to talk to him about?"

"It _is_ sort of private..."

"Ah. Right then." Sarah paused. "And, just so you know, it's your turn to make dinner tonight."

John let out a breath.

"Is take out fine with you?" He asked. Sarah smiled slightly.

"Yes, John." She said, a slightly exagerated edge of exasperation to her voice. "Take out is perfectly fine."

* * *

**It's time to play the 'Let's respond to some reviews' game! First up:**

**laura. bergh .37- I do indeed want to write a John flips his lid chapter. Very badly so. And it will happen sometime in the future, so be on the lookout for it.**

**Lily-...I do believe that you probably quoted 80% of the chapter in the review. *claps* Thanks for the review though, and all the other ones that I haven't replied to, they really do just sort of make my day and encourage me to keep writing.**

**First guest to review last chapter- I do really enjoy writing this story, and I promise I won't give up on it until it's finished. I just sort of had a really bad day and was about done with the rest of the world. Stuff is betterish now though, so that's good.**

**And that one guest from chapter 57- Which element are you talking about? I'm thinking that there's Gold, Copper, and Osmium, which I didn't count because it only seems to be somewhat blue-grayish in the right type of light. Just curious which metal you were referring to, that's all.**

**Join us next chapter for another round of this enthralling game show! Untill then, have an *insert synonym for great here* day and DFTBA!**


	60. Chapter 60

**Oh. Hey. Yeah, I'm back. There's really no excuse for being gone as long as I have been, but I'll still try at the end of this chapter. For now though, go forth and enjoy! Disclaimer- I don't have enough money to buy the notebooks I wrote these things in, much less the rights of the fandoms I write them for.**

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John took a deep breath and stepped inside his room, closing the door when he was in. He glanced around quickly before his gaze settled on Sherlock, who was currently playing with the zipper on his backpack. He zipped the entire thing up back to its original state, and looked at John.

"You're done 'talking', then?" He questioned. John shrugged slightly.

"Didn't actually do all that much talking." He admittedly. Sherlock nodded.

"Well, that-" He started.

"Doesn't apply to us, though." John interrupted. Sherlock's face fell.

"I'm sorry?"

John locked eyes with his student, gaze steady and unwavering.

"We need to talk, Sherlock."

Sherlock swallowed and muttered something underneath his breath.

"Don't even _think_ about trying to avoid this." John warned, making his way over to his student and sitting next to him on the carpeted floor.

"John..."

"Sherlock, we are talking about this. That's it."

Sherlock was silent and John took this to signify submission.

"Why do you do this?" He asked, unable to think of any other way to kick off the conversation.

Silence.

"Sherlock. I need to know why you cut."

Jesus, he was almost as uncomfortable talking about this as Sherlock was.

"...Why do you care?" Sherlock questioned suddenly.

"Why do I care of you're trying to bloody care yourself, Sherlock?!" John countered, sarcasm practically dripping off his words. Sherlock stared at John, face reddening.

"T's not that..." He mumbled.

"Not what?" Asked John.

"I'm not trying to kill myself, John." Sherlock snapped.

"Well maybe you could do a bit more to convince me of that." John said scratchingly. "Maybe tell me _why_ you're doing what you're doing."

Sherlock was silent a moment, wringing his hands.

"It's a coping mechanism." He finally muttered. Despite himself, John raised an eyebrow at Sherlock's particular wording. He could be trying to bargain for his life, and yet he would still find that standard language would not suffice for the occasion.

Shaking his head very slightly, clearing his head of his last thought, John fixed Sherlock with a stare that was both hard and gentle at the same time.

"What's that mean?" He asked, watching Sherlock student carefully. Sherlock shrugged before answering.

"Emotional outlet." He supplied. "Everybody's got one. You study and exercise,"

Those damn deductions. It was like Sherlock didn't even notice he was making them.

"Mycroft drinks, Molly plays flute, Anderson beats the tar out of people. What I do is no different."

"Yeah. I get what you're saying." John started. "Emotional outlets and such. But yours _is_ different."

Sherlock opened his mouth, but didn't get the chance to speak.

"Because for you to take your emotions, and use them against yourself like that, it's not good."

"I know it's not." Sherlock muttered. "But it helps. It really does."

"How does it help?" John asked, genuinely curious. "And that's not a rhetorical question either. I want to know exactly how it helps."

"...Just does." Said Sherlock, and John could tell, from Sherlock's lack of eye contact, from his constant twitching, from everything he probably didn't know he was saying with his body language, John knew that he wouldn't be getting an honest answer from Sherlock.

"I think...The endorphins released...Help calm me down? I guess?"

_Endorphins, my ass,_ John thought.

"...You're a terrible liar, Sherlock."

"Not normally, I'm not." Sherlock countered. John considered.

"Yeah, you're normally better than this. Back on subject, though-"

"John." Sherlock cut through. "I gave you an answer."

"You gave me a lie for an answer, Sherlock." John reminded his student.

"That's still an answer, nonetheless."

"It's not the answer I was looking for."

"I don't really give a damn what the answer you're looking for is, right now, John." Sherlock said, standing up. He paused for a fraction of a second. "No, wait. Sorry...Im going for a walk."

"Sherlock..." John half-heartedly argued.

"I'll be back later. I swear." Sherlock tried to assure.

"...Where are you going?" John questioned.

"Don't know. I just-" Sherlock ran a hand through his unruly hair. "I just need some time to think."

John hesitated.

"...Alright."

Sherlock gave a small nod and started for the door.

"Thank you." He acknowledged.

"Back before ten!" John called.

"Eleven." Sherlock bartered.

"Ten thirty."

Sherlock smiled slightly to himself.

"Fine." He agreed. "I'll see you later, John." He said, stepping out of the room and into the hallway. A few seconds later, John heard the door to the flat close.

"Yeah. Sure." John said to nobody in particular, standing up and closing his door.

He wondered what he was doing wrong. Why couldn't he seem to get Sherlock to trust him? He thought that he'd been close, and then...this. Suddenly the kid couldn't wait to get away from him.

Slightly confused, and definitely frustrated, John let out a sigh.

"...See you later, Sherlock."

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**And now it's time for the half-hearted excuses I suppose. Basically life has not been being overly kind to me. Which is no reason not to update, but this chapter was actually really triggering to write for some reason, and my self harm has sort of been flying out the window as of late and oh wow I'm rambling. Moving on from that, I've also been working on a new Doctor Who story which I've been puting a lot of attention into. It's called 'Adductes Tenebris Ex Lux In Profundum', which is Latin for 'Bringing Light Into the Depths of Darkness'. It's a dark!Doctor story, and I really enjoy writing on that, which is also part of the reason I haven't been doing this one. Go read it if you like. In other news, it's now summer, so I have a lot more time to write. I will try to get a few chapters on this story done tonight, and hopefully updates will be a lot more regular than they have been.**

**Lily- Quoting is great. I don't mind it, honestly. Your reviews make my day, and I like to know what parts you guys like so I can improve my writing. If you quote parts of chapters to tell me which sorts you like, that's all cool.**

**LunaIrenePond- *dies* Your username. Gah. It's brilliant. Anywho, thanks for the review. I'm a bit the same way. **

**Guest(all of you cause there's like six and it would get sort of confusing)- Your reviews are greatly appreciated. Thank you for the continued support.**

**To everybody, thanks a ton for reading, have a fantastic day, and DFTBA!**


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